Faded Voices
by AdmiralCats
Summary: (Bad Company: Book 20) Shortly after the Marines are transferred to a new base in Brazil, Spunkmeyer and Ferro are shot down in their dropship over the dense and unforgiving jungle. With their only option being to run, the two struggle to survive and keep each other from breaking down, hoping to be rescued soon.
1. Chapter 1

The sunlight was slow to spill through the small bedroom windows, bathing two sleeping forms in light and warmth. One of them stirred, putting her arms around the other's neck, and whispering, "Spunkmeyer, time to wake up."

Private Spunkmeyer responded by hugging Corporal Ferro and kissing her full on the lips before saying, "Good morning."

Ferro nuzzled his face. "You still need to shave. You're so scruffy."

Spunkmeyer purred. "You like it that way."

Ferro looked toward the door when Hicks began going around to wake everyone up. "I should go get dressed now."

"One more kiss?"

Ferro rolled her eyes. "Fine." She kissed him, then grabbed her robe from the floor. "See you at breakfast."

Spunkmeyer was still smiling after Ferro left. He threw on a T-shirt, smoothing it over his belly before tucking it into his shorts. His smile faded somewhat as he took his uniform off the top of his dresser.

Hicks pounded on the door. "Come on, Spunkmeyer, get dressed and head down to the mess hall."

"Yeah, yeah," Spunkmeyer muttered, taking his cap from the nightstand. He peered out into the hallway, and hopped in line with the rest of his unit, stretching and yawning along with them.

"What's for breakfast, man?" Hudson asked no one in particular.

"Crap," Drake replied.

"So, the usual."

"I would've gotten you all some decent food if Hudson didn't throw himself a wild party when he came back from promotion training," Hicks said.

"Are you still happy I made it to PFC, man?"

"It took you five years. I'm mildly embarrassed, buddy."

"Hicks would be shocked if Hudson got to lance-corporal," Drake said, sitting down with his tray.

"Hicks would be shocked if Hudson didn't puke after a party," Spunkmeyer snorted.

"That would shock me way more than him getting promoted before the end of his contract," Hicks laughed.

"You shut up, man. You're proud of me and you know it." Hudson sat down, looking at his breakfast. "Is this yogurt or oatmeal?"

"Who knows?" Spunkmeyer took a spoonful of the substance on the tray. "Whatever it is, it's bitter."

"That's the yogurt," Drake replied. "I'll tell you why it's bitter; it's so we all have healthy bowel movements."

Apone glared at him. "Drake, what'd I tell you-"

"I'm sorry, Sarge."

Apone glanced around the table before speaking again. "Alright, I've got an announcement to make, people: we're moving again-"

"No!" Drake groaned.

"Who said you could interrupt me, Drake? Complain when I'm done talking. Now, as you should know, this is our South America rotation. We'll be stationed outside of Rio de Janeiro, in Brazil, for the next two or three months. I want everyone to start packing today, because we're heading out in two days' time. Spunkmeyer, Wierzbowski, I want you two in the loading bay to start putting the heavy equipment in the cargo plane. No one is to leave anything behind. I don't want so much as a used tissue left in your nightstand, because we're not coming back for it."

After breakfast, Spunkmeyer headed to the loading bay to see the entrance wide open and the back end of a plane just outside. The ramp was down and ready for everything to be loaded on board. Without a word, Spunkmeyer climbed into his powerloader, glad to have a few hours alone with it and his thoughts. He felt focused in the powerloader. He felt like he could let his brain organize itself while performing the menial tasks of moving things around the loading bay.

He found he had been a lot happier since he and Ferro came to terms with how they felt about each other. Releasing the feelings he had for five years was a great relief, equivalent to when he finally ran away from home to live his own life. _I'm living that life, and even better is that I'm loved. Somebody loves me and I love her._

Ferro was his pilot, his co-worker, his best friend, and his lover. She put up with his quirks and affections. Just _being_ affectionate was a great pleasure.

He couldn't believe that all those years ago, she said she didn't want a relationship. He could never admit to how much that hurt as they continued to work together and his feelings continued to blossom. He wanted so badly to tell her that he loved her, and then she approached him one morning to ask him about Drake.

"I think I like Drake," she said, sitting with Spunkmeyer in the dropship cockpit.

"Drake? Why?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"I'm not sure. He seems sweet, underneath that rough exterior." Ferro gave a sigh, reminisce of a teenage girl. "That rough, handsome exterior."

_Do you think I'm handsome? I know you've told me I'm cute . . . and then you said you weren't interested in me. _"Just tell him." Spunkmeyer shrugged.

"How?"

"He's an emotional person. I'm sure he'll understand."

Over the next few months, that was all Spunkmeyer heard about. Ferro was too nervous to confess her feelings to Drake, and it began to annoy Spunkmeyer, mainly because he was upset that Ferro wasn't interested in him anymore. It made him more self-conscious than he wanted to be, especially when he observed Drake in the gym. Yeah, Drake was a bit underweight, but he looked better than Spunkmeyer, who didn't have much muscle definition to speak of. Ferro seemed to like what she saw. She gazed, dreamily, at Drake when he exercised bare-chested. It disappointed Spunkmeyer further when he saw Drake return Ferro's affections-only somewhat, though, which baffled Spunkmeyer. _Maybe he's not as interested in her as she is in him._

He still had dreams where he'd catch Ferro and Drake kissing passionately in the armory, or the locker room, or in Ferro's bedroom. They bothered him, but he was powerless to do anything. He came close to accepting it when Ferro revealed that Drake was already dating someone, and his hopes rose up again.

Spunkmeyer could understand why Ferro found it hard to open up to Drake, because he was finding it difficult to confess his feelings for her in the months that followed her telling him that Drake was taken. Though he did eventually tell her, their relationship didn't get off to an easy start. There was confusion over where to start-after all, they had known each other for a long time before making this decision. At least they had some help, in the unlikely form of Ferro's own former crush, Drake, which led to Spunkmeyer and Ferro's first night sleeping together. For both, it was an experience. Awkward at first, but an experience.

All relationships had their rough patches, and Spunkmeyer hoped they didn't have another one for a very long time. He sighed, closing his eyes and thinking of Ferro while resting his head against the roll cage of the powerloader as it started up. This was definitely a stark contrast to his life back in New York, and he felt like he exceeded his own expectations.

After the heavy equipment was loaded onto the plane, the last thing to go in was the powerloader itself. Spunkmeyer took a breath after walking the machine into the back of the plane. He didn't hide that he had become emotionally attached to it. It had been a "constant companion" for the last five years, something he didn't have in his previous life. He loved it, and worked hard to keep it functional. Naturally, he was worried about it making the journey down to Rio from Washington. Once it was strapped down, he touched the right leg of the machine, sighing, and then left the plane. The crew closed the ramp, and the roar of the engines starting up echoed across the base.

"Everything OK?"

Spunkmeyer turned to see Wierzbowski standing nearby. "Yeah, I'm fine. How 'bout you?" He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Well, I know I've been trying to mentally prepare myself for this day in terms of . . . leaving my girlfriend for a few months." Wierzbowski looked down at the sweat stains that had spread across his shirt. "I don't feel ready. Hudson's upset, too."

Spunkmeyer shrugged. "Call her and write to her, I guess. I dunno what you want me to say."

Wierzbowski tilted his head. "You could at least show some support."

"Fine. I'm sorry you and Hudson will be missing your girlfriends."

Dietrich jogged over to where the two were standing. "'Ski, I need your help packing some of the equipment from sick bay." She gave Spunkmeyer an icy look. "Go make yourself useful."

"I just finished putting the powerloader on the-"

"Yeah, one job's done. Go do another. Don't just stand there."

"Dietrich-" Wierzbowski put his hand on her shoulder, "relax, OK? We were just talking." He walked away with Dietrich, leaving Spunkmeyer standing alone near the entrance of the hangar.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent doing smaller tasks, like packing personal belongings. Spunkmeyer sloppily folded his clothes before putting them in a large duffel bag, leaving one set out for the next day. He was hoping they were going to a base as nice as this one, but it was possible they weren't. The majority of bases still housed the Marines in small rooms with two bunk beds. Some had bigger rooms with two regular beds, like his first base in Florida. However, everyone dreaded what the bathroom situation could be. Despite having to clean it all by themselves, everyone loved having their own private bathroom. No one wanted to be using the same bathroom as Hudson. No one wanted to share a shower with Hudson, either.

As he sighed while thinking about how everyone would bitch and moan about the bathroom, Spunkmeyer reached into his nightstand to find a rumpled baseball cap. His thoughts faded into the back of his mind, and he sat on the floor. It was the cap his father left him as a baby.

It had been awhile since Spunkmeyer had thought about his father. He still had nightmares where he was wandering around a place-a mall, a fair, a school-calling for him. Sometimes, he was a child in those dreams. Sometimes, he was grown up.

"Grown up" was a fairly loose term for him. Having enlisted at 16 to leave his adoptive mother, Spunkmeyer had to try and mentally grow up quickly, which was almost as difficult as growing up physically. Now at 20 (though his papers said 22), he knew the carefree years of his life, the years where he found out more about himself, were gone. He wasn't getting them back.

_Why should I care about whether I had a good childhood or not? I'm happy now. _Spunkmeyer put the cap in his duffel bag before closing it.

Someone knocked on the door, and he heard Drake say, "Hey, everyone's going out for pizza for dinner. Wanna come?"

"Is this like a celebratory last meal before we leave?"

Drake nodded. "Especially for you. I don't think they have New York pizza in Brazil." He looked Spunkmeyer up and down. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You look a little sad."

"Just . . . thinking."

"About the move, or something else?"

"Both."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's just the usual shit, Drake. Thinking about how I wiped away my teenage years and how . . . I'm still living a lie."

Drake leaned against the doorway, folding his arms over his chest. "It's just your age you've lied about. Everything else is real. You can fly a dropship and operate a powerloader. You have friends, and a girlfriend. Your age is the only lie around here. Is that it?"

"I think so."

"Well, everyone's waiting down by the Metro. Come on."

"Lemme guess, Hudson's gonna pig out and get drunk."

"No, he and Wierzbowski are spending the night with their girlfriends," Drake replied. "I feel bad for them, especially Wierzbowski because it feels like his relationship with Eliza just started."

"At least you and I won't get separated from our girlfriends."

"Yeah, but that's not the point. They're both upset and we should do our best to support them until they get used to it."

"Hudson should already be used to it. He's already done long-distance with Miranda."

"And what about Wierzbowski? He hasn't done long-distance with Eliza, and he's nervous about what this is going to do to his relationship."

"If Hudson can survive, I see no reason 'Ski can't."

Drake frowned, unsure of what to say that would be remotely helpful.

* * *

Ferro quietly closed the door before climbing into bed with Spunkmeyer. She sighed before curling up next to him. "I hope we're not in bunk beds again. It means Vasquez and I have to room with Dietrich."

"And we won't be able to snuggle," Spunkmeyer added. He turned to face Ferro, his nose touching hers. "Hi."

"Hi." Ferro kissed him. "What should we do tonight?"

"Well . . . considering we don't know what the bedroom situation is going to bed, maybe we should have fun one last time."

"We just did it a few nights ago."

"Oh. Are you not in the mood?"

"No. Spunkmeyer, I'm sorry-"

"No, no, it's OK. I'm not upset. Why should I be upset over something like this? That's so stupid." Spunkmeyer kissed Ferro's forehead. "That's not why I love you."

Ferro smirked. "I know. Is it OK that I just want to lay here in silence with you?"

"That's fine. I don't care. I'm just glad I'm still gonna have you."

"Yeah. Drake was telling me that Wierzbowski hasn't taken the news well."

"He'll be fine. He knew it was gonna happen at some point."

"I know, but it'll be a hard few weeks for him. Try to be nice, OK?"

"I'm nice. Aren't I?"

"I've noticed you've been . . . a bit more bouncy the last few weeks."

"I'm happy. I'm happy we've been able to start a relationship. I mean, we should've five years ago, but-"

"Spunkmeyer?"

"What?"

"We're in a relationship. We don't need to keep bringing up the fact that we made some mistakes in the past, because we moved on, OK?"

"OK." Spunkmeyer pressed Ferro close to him, and she kissed him. Her arms snaked around his neck, hugging him tightly while kissing him. When they paused to breathe, Spunkmeyer whispered, "Dammit, I hope we can still sleep together when we change bases," before planting another kiss on Ferro's lips.

"I think you can survive without it for a few months."

"If we can't, how do you feel about doing it on a dropship?"

Ferro gave Spunkmeyer a playful shove. "We're not doing it on a dropship." She lazily ran her finger down Spunkmeyer's chest, and sighed. "Anything else you wanna talk about?"

"I dunno." Spunkmeyer looked up at the ceiling. "I guess we can go to sleep, if you want."

"I was hoping we'd talk more."

"About what?"

"I don't know. Anything. I kinda miss that."

"We talk."

"Not like when we first met. Remember how we'd take every opportunity we had to leave our training base and explore?"

"Yeah."

"We don't do stuff like that anymore."

"Hey, I promised that one day, I'll walk you around New York. I'll show you everything. I'll give you several days and nights that you'll never forget."

"And when is 'one day,' sweetie?"

"Um . . . not sure."

"So, does that mean I can take you to Michigan one day and have you meet my parents?"

"If that 'some day' is in a few years, then yes."

"We're not waiting a few years for my parents to find out about you."

"You're a grown woman. You don't need them to approve of me when you already approve of me."

"Well, I've kinda already told them in my letters."

"Without telling me?"

"They're my parents. Why should I tell you?"

Spunkmeyer found himself drawing a blank. He had never been put in this situation before.

"Does this bother you?"

"No."

"Then why do you seem upset?"

"Because I thought . . . being in a relationship meant we talked about things and made decisions together."

"We're still our own people with our lives. I don't have to tell you every decision I make, and vice versa."

"You do it with Drake, though."

Ferro sighed. "I did not tell Drake that I was going to tell my parents about you."

"You're telling me the truth?"

Her eyes narrowed to gray slits. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm telling the truth."

Spunkmeyer let out a sigh of his own, and turned his back to Ferro. "I'm going to sleep."

"No, seriously, Spunkmeyer, what's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm tired. Good night."

Ferro sat for a few minutes before taking her robe and standing up. "Good night." She left the room without another word.

Spunkmeyer covered his face with his bedsheet when he sobbed. "Goddammit . . ." he whispered to himself. _I'm never gonna get this right! And just this morning I felt like we had everything! I still have no idea what I'm doing! I'm just acting on what I feel!_

* * *

Usually, Spunkmeyer would spend his mornings in the loading bay. Without the powerloader, he had no reason to be down there. Last night with Ferro had left him self-conscious and frustrated, so he ate very little for breakfast and headed to the gym. He wouldn't be alone, though, as he found Drake using the pull-up bar.

_Drake's a self-proclaimed expert on relationships. Maybe I should talk to him. _Spunkmeyer set his bag on a bench, not bothering to remove his T-shirt. "Hey, Drake. Mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure," Drake replied, dropping down from the bar. "What's going on?"

Spunkmeyer couldn't put his dilemma into words. "Well . . . last night, I . . . figured out I'm . . . I'm still not sure how to go about this relationship with Ferro."

"What'd you do?"

"She told me that she told her parents about me and I didn't like that, and then she questioned if I trusted her. I . . . I quit. I turned away from her and went to sleep, because I didn't know what to do."

Drake thought for a moment, sitting on the bench and drying the sweat from his face with a towel. "Why don't you want her parents knowing about you?"

"I don't feel ready. And . . . if I do end up meeting her family, I don't wanna talk about my . . . my past."

"Yeah, that's one thing Vasquez and I don't have to worry about, thank God. Anyway, that's something you should bring up to Ferro. That's one of those areas in a relationship where you need total transparency with her. Otherwise, it'll turn meeting the family into a nightmare. She needs to know how you really feel, so you can take it slow. And, in terms of you not being sure about just going about your relationship, that doesn't surprise me in the slightest."

Spunkmeyer frowned. "Enlighten me, Drake."

"You enlisted at, what, sixteen? You didn't get to experience dating and relationships. Plus, you're not going to get this overnight. It takes time and a willingness to commit to problem-solving with your partner. Vasquez and I have been dating for about four years, and we still have things we need to work on. It's not all cutesy moments and sex. You gotta earn that." Drake stood up. "Anything else?"

"No." Spunkmeyer got up to the pull-up bar, and struggled to do even one. He strained and clenched every muscle tightly as he tried to pull himself up.

Drake walked over to him, arms folded over his chest. "Take off your T-shirt."

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Unlike everyone else . . . I don't have abs."

"Work out more, and then you will. Get back up there. I'm gonna be your personal trainer now." Drake smirked. "Don't make me sound like Apone."

* * *

_Question: How is Spunkmeyer's attitude toward love different from Drake's?_


	2. Chapter 2

Sweat ran off Spunkmeyer in waves as he continued to slowly and weakly pull himself up on the bar. The further up he went, the more his muscles would start to shake and hurt, and then he lowered himself back down.

"Not a chance in hell!" Drake barked. "Get back up there!"

"I'm trying, Drake . . ." Spunkmeyer moaned.

"'Try?' You haven't 'tried' in the last five minutes! You haven't tried until I see your head over the bar." Drake folded his arms over his chest. "Come on, buddy, you can do it." He patted the soft flesh of Spunkmeyer's belly. "We don't want this anymore. Toughen it up. You want those abs? You gotta work for 'em."

Spunkmeyer couldn't turn his head to see Wierzbowski had walked into the gym, but he heard the British Marine say, "Drake, what the hell are you doing?"

"Training him," Drake replied, not looking at Wierzbowski.

"You're late for your therapy session. Ranelli sent me to look for you."

"Oh, crap. Sorry." Drake sighed. "You can stop now, Spunkmeyer."

Spunkmeyer let go of the bar, almost collapsing on the floor. Every muscle in his arms and torso were sore and throbbing. Slowly standing, he grunted as pain surged through him with each slight twitch and movement. When Drake left the room, Spunkmeyer looked up at Wierzbowski. "I ain't exercised that hard since boot camp."

"I think everyone in this unit knows that. You're the worst offender for skimping on his workouts. Now that the powerloader is out of the way, maybe you'll actually have time to join us," Wierzbowski said.

Spunkmeyer groaned, wincing as more pain moved up and down his arms. "I didn't get over the bar."

"Most of us couldn't get over the bar the first time."

"You probably could."

"Yeah, that's true. I did." Wierzbowski grinned a little. "With time and practice, you'll get there."

Spunkmeyer waited for the pain to subside in his arms before picking up his T-shirt. "Does it work that way with love?"

"Not . . . entirely." Wierzbowski frowned. "Is everything alright with you and Ferro?"

"We had a fight last night. I kinda realized that . . . I still don't know what I'm doing. Why is it that . . . I love her so much, but I don't know how to make this work? I got upset because she's told her parents about me. I shouldn't be upset. I know one day I'm probably going to meet her parents and they're gonna determine whether I'm a good fit for their daughter, and they probably won't because I'm a foul-mouthed, scruffy New Yorker who didn't graduate high school."

"They don't have to know all that. Right now, Eliza's parents have no idea I was an alcoholic, and they like me. I'm good to their daughter. That's all they need to see in order to approve of you. Relationships are one of life's biggest balancing acts. At the end of the day, you and Ferro are still two individuals. There are some decisions you should make together, and some where you really don't. This is her family, so it is her decision to tell them about you. I know . . . you don't have a family, but, if you did, how would you approach this?"

"Honestly . . . I would tell my father without telling Ferro." A heavy feeling settled in Spunkmeyer's chest. "I just wish he was here to give me advice."

"Looking back on it, I probably should've approached my father for advice when I decided to try dating," Wierzbowski said. "Maybe he wouldn't have gotten upset with me when my life went to shit."

Spunkmeyer gave a quiet sigh. "I'll figure this out. Somehow."

* * *

Drake gave his smartgun a quick nuzzle before setting it in a case on the dropship. "Next time you see me, we'll be in Brazil." He patted the case after closing it, and then approached Ferro to whisper something. It must've been funny, because Ferro laughed about it. Spunkmeyer glanced in their direction while cleaning the weapon sights on his helmet, kneeling on the floor. When Drake left, Ferro turned toward Spunkmeyer. "You look sad. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Spunkmeyer said. He looked around to make sure they were alone. "I . . . C-Can we talk?"

"Sure." Ferro knelt in front of him.

"I want to apologize for last night. I shouldn't have gotten upset, a-and I certainly shouldn't have turned my back on you and ignored you. That was wrong."

"I kinda knew you weren't sure how to react. Was I a little upset with you, yes, but I know that this is something we will work on with time." She smirked a little. "We're still together, don't worry."

Spunkmeyer blushed while grinning himself. "I wasn't worried, but, thanks for the reassurance."

Ferro was about to lean in and kiss him when they heard someone walk into the dropship. Looking over her shoulder, Ferro said, "Hey, Hudson."

"Hello," Hudson replied, giving the two a big, goofy grin. "How's it going?"

"Good. We were just talking. Do what you need to do."

Hudson nodded before sitting in the cockpit of the dropship. "Shouldn't take me too long, man."

"What's he doing?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"I made a whoopsie with resetting the computer system," Ferro replied.

"It happens, man," Hudson said.

Spunkmeyer sighed. "Sometimes I forget he's the tech guy."

Hudson was actually quiet while he worked, but Spunkmeyer decided he'd continue his conversation with Ferro later, when they were alone. As he put the sights on his helmet back together, Hudson said, "Hey, Ferro, come 'ere a minute."

Ferro stood up, and looked over Hudson's shoulder in the cockpit. "What?"

"What did you press when you went to clear all destination coordinates in the system?"

"'All.' We only had, what, two missions this entire period?"

"Local or global?"

Ferro paused. "I thought I pressed 'local.'"

"Well, you pressed 'global' on accident, I think." Hudson sighed. "That's not good, man."

"What happened?"

"You basically wiped out the GPS. See, when a dropship gets off the production line, they're all outfitted with sector coordinates. If the ship goes down, and neither you or Spunkmeyer are able to transmit your location to a USCM satellite, the ship automatically sends a generalized location to the satellite. It's not your exact location, but it gives the USCM an idea of where to search for you, while also making it difficult for spies or hostiles to find you. You wiped out all of those sector coordinates. The ship is unable to send anything to a satellite in case of a crash, not unless a specialist gets in and puts those coordinates back in."

Ferro sat in the co-pilot seat, putting her head in her hands. "Can you put them back in?"

Hudson shook his head. "I have no idea what they are."

"What about Bishop?"

"Nope. I mean, he could do it manually, but there are hundreds of thousands of sectors, and that'll take forever. We leave for Brazil tomorrow." Hudson gave her a sympathetic look. "This is an easy fix, OK? We'll be able to get this all straightened out once we land in Rio. It's not very likely the dropship is going to crash or go down, anyway."

"How is it even allowed to fly, now?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"We don't have a choice, man. Our orders are to leave tomorrow." Hudson looked back at Ferro. "Don't be too upset. Shit happens sometimes. It'll be OK."

Spunkmeyer was certain Ferro was listening, but his heart twisted when he saw the tears in her eyes.

* * *

Ferro became more and more embarrassed after Hudson told Hicks and Apone what happened, despite Hudson saying, repeatedly, that it was an accident that could be easily fixed. There was no delaying the move, though, no matter how nervous they were about something happening to the dropship.

The day went as usual, save for the fact that the base was feeling emptier and emptier. Most of the unit's equipment had been moved onto the dropship.

No one was allowed to leave base that night. Hicks explained that it was so they didn't have to deal with hangovers or potential injuries, or anything else that might happen while someone was out-and he said all this while looking at Hudson. "Just enjoy your last night here," Hicks said. "I know some of you are emotionally attached to people you've met here, and I do apologize for taking you away from your girlfriends. You will be able to contact them once we get settled in to our new base. I promise, as soon as you set your luggage down, you can make your phone calls. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," everyone murmured.

After showering and changing into their nightclothes, everyone gathered in the lounge. Ferro was trying to be upbeat, but Spunkmeyer could see in her eyes that she still felt awful about messing up the dropship's computer. He sat next to her, struggling to find the right words to say.

Before he could say anything, Ferro hugged him, and whispered, "I was just thinking about how you were so supportive of me when we were in training together."

"What brought on that thought?" Spunkmeyer asked. "I've been kind of an ass."

Ferro smirked. "Like Vasquez says to Drake, you're my favorite ass." She poked his cheek. "You're working on yourself, and I'm proud of you."

"I don't feel like I've . . . done anything, though."

"It's not gonna do you any good if I keep telling you that you're screwing up. We're in this together, and I'm going to help you, not drag you down."

"Thanks." Spunkmeyer hugged Ferro back, rubbing her shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

It took them a moment to realize Drake was standing over them, yet they still jumped a little when Drake hissed through his teeth, "Now kiss."

"Hi, Drake," Ferro said, looking up at him. "What do you want?"

"Oh, I'm just observing."

"Can we have a moment together without you hanging over us?" Spunkmeyer sighed.

"Look, it's either I join you, or I watch Hudson stuff mini chocolate-chip cookies in his cheeks."

"Fine."

Drake sat across from them, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at Hudson. He sighed before taking a long drink from his water bottle. "Am I the only one not excited to move?"

"You're not very excited for anything, Drake," Ferro replied.

"I know."

"I hear Rio's very pretty. I'm excited."

"You two will be kissing on Sugarloaf Mountain before you know it." Drake smirked. "What do you think, Spunkmeyer?"

Spunkmeyer shrugged. "We're not being sent to the middle of nowhere. That's all that matters."

"True. After this is the Asia rotation. That's a long haul. Where were we last time?"

"The Philippines," Ferro replied.

"In summer, too. I think we were shirtless most of the time."

"You were," Spunkmeyer said. "We all sweat like hell."

"Well, we probably won't sweat like hell in Rio, because they're coming out of their winter. Shouldn't be too bad. Might be very wet."

"So it really won't be any different than summer in the Philippines."

"Good point."

Everyone turned when they heard Hicks say, "Hey, what the hell are you doing?" It didn't take long to realize he was directing it at Hudson, whose cheeks were puffed out with miniature cookies.

"I think he's hit a new record," Frost said. "Twenty cookies."

"Well, no one's ever doubted he's got a big mouth." Hicks sighed, looking at Hudson. "Alright, fun's over. Take 'em out before you choke. Ten minutes till lights-out, OK?"

Spunkmeyer looked at Ferro. "You gonna join me tonight? Might be the last time we can in several months."

Ferro sighed. "Fine. No repeats of last night, though."

"There won't be. I promise."

* * *

Neither of them slept or talked while laying in the darkness of Spunkmeyer's room. Moonlight was spilling in through the window. There was silence, though the only sound Ferro heard was Spunkmeyer's heartbeat, as her head was on his chest. At one point, she moved up to his shoulder, to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear. "You look deep in thought."

"I'm OK," Spunkmeyer replied.

"Well, I know I said I don't want us fighting, but that doesn't mean we can't talk about things and sort them out."

"I know," Spunkmeyer sighed. "I have a hard time wording my thoughts, sometimes."

"I figured that out the first day we met. I can understand why, given your past. You really didn't have anyone to confide in."

"Up until meeting you, yeah, I had . . . nobody. I mean, I had friends, but they weren't the friends that you sit down and talk about your problems with. They were good kids, though. They didn't care that I was adopted. They didn't make jokes about how my parents didn't love me. They were happy I knew how to play baseball, and that's what we did. Some of them let me stay over when I . . . just didn't feel like going home, and we all enjoyed each other's company. It didn't go much further than that."

"You needed a deeper relationship."

Spunkmeyer nodded. "I'm glad I got that outta you and the others here. That's what I wanted. Can't ask for much else."

"I'm sure there's other things you want in life."

"Yeah. I . . . Well . . . if I tell you, you won't think I'm . . . nuts, will you?"

"No."

"OK. When I . . . leave the Marines, I want to adopt a kid."

Ferro thought for a moment. "I know we've only been dating for about a month, but . . . do you see us having a future together? Like, as a married couple?"

"Yeah."

"When we're ready-you know, we're married and we have our own place-what if . . . I said I want my own children? As in biologically."

"We can do that, can't we?"

"But, what do you want to do first? Adopt, or have our own?"

Spunkmeyer paused. "Honestly . . . I'm not sure."

"Hey, we have lots of time to think about it. Nothing to worry about now, sweetie." Ferro kissed Spunkmeyer's cheek. "I love you." She hugged him. "We have a big day tomorrow, so we should get some sleep."

It seemed like only five minutes had passed when Spunkmeyer awoke to hear Hicks knocking on everyone's doors. He looked at Ferro, who was slowly starting to wake up. She stretched and put her arms around Spunkmeyer's neck.

Spunkmeyer sat up. "I hate to disrupt your beauty sleep, Ferro, but we need to get up."

"I know," Ferro said. She left the bed, taking her robe from the floor and quickly leaving the room.

Almost as soon as the two were dressed, Hicks was behind them, yelling, "I want you two to eat quickly, and get working on the dropship, ASAP! No dilly-dallying! Eat and go! No conversations."

Spunkmeyer was still adjusting the zipper of his flightsuit when he sat down in the mess hall. Hicks was eating a bowl of cereal while walking around the table.

"Come on, hurry up and grab the rest of your belongings, put them on the dropship. No-" Hicks pulled a plate of French toast sticks away from Hudson, "I said _hurry up_. That means no second helpings."

"This is gonna be a long flight, man!" Hudson moaned.

"Yeah, that means no bathroom breaks either! Everyone's gonna answer the call of nature, whether you feel like you have to or not, before we go! That's an order!"

It had been awhile since Spunkmeyer had done a long flight. His stomach growled at the thought of being stuck in the cockpit for over ten hours with no breaks for sustenance. The base rations weren't going to cut it.

Everyone was running around immediately after breakfast. Drake was helping Vasquez with her bags. Wierzbowski was carrying all of Dietrich's bags, plus his own, while Dietrich carried extra first aid kits onto the dropship.

"Let's go, ladies and gentlemen! If you're done, help someone else!" Hicks yelled.

"No one is to be sitting around," Apone added.

Spunkmeyer fitted his helmet to his head before jogging into the dropship. He made sure his personal belongings were in and labeled with everyone else's, before heading into the cockpit.

Ferro was already putting in the coordinates for their destination. "Only fucking coordinates this thing has now," she muttered.

"Hudson said it'll be fixed when we get there," Spunkmeyer replied, buckling his harness. "I wanna see my powerloader again, that's for sure."

The dropship shook a little as everyone ran aboard, dropping their bags, and strapping themselves into their seats.

"OK, start her up!" Hicks shouted.

The two could still hear Hicks yelling at everyone to stay seated and talk quietly once they were in the air as they started up the dropship.

"Easy. Let's not graze the ceiling," Ferro said as the ship began hovering. "Alright, let's slowly move forward. Don't increase speed till the runway's under us."

"Got it, baby," Spunkmeyer replied. He held his breath as the dropship was carefully maneuvered out of the hangar. The skyline of D.C. opened up before them, as they gradually increased speed and altitude. There wasn't a cloud in sight. Spunkmeyer could see the beaches and docks that Drake and some of the others went to on beautiful days like this. He knew they had favorite locations around here, and they'd miss that familiarity. Nothing topped the pain that Hudson and Wierzbowski would feel when they realized they couldn't talk to their girlfriends as easily anymore. _Thank God mine will always be with me,_ Spunkmeyer thought.

They continued to head south, and the outer edges of the city disappeared from view. Along the coast, they wouldn't have to worry about being lost if something happened; the Navy was right there. Once they left American air- and sea-space, things could get tricky if they went down, especially now that their GPS was wiped. Spunkmeyer sighed a little. _Things'll be fine._

Two hours passed in complete silence, though they could both hear Hudson's voice at times. No surprises there.

Ferro spoke into her headset. "How're we doing back there, Hicks?"

"Well, we haven't told Dietrich to sedate anyone yet," Hicks replied.

"We're stuck in a small space with Hudson for hours! Help us!" Drake cried.

Hicks sighed. "Anyway, we're all OK. Situation normal."

"Alright. I'll check on you again soon." Ferro let out a sigh of her own after turning her headset off. "I think Dietrich should've sedated everyone for this trip."

Spunkmeyer snorted. "You think?"

Several more hours passed, also in silence. Spunkmeyer glanced at one of the small screens in front of him. "We're crossing the Equator. Should reach Rio in three-and-a-half hours."

"Awesome." Ferro's voice was laced with sarcasm.

Spunkmeyer kept his gaze on the monitors. A sudden pang of anxiety turned in his stomach when he saw several go black. "What the hell?"

Ferro drew in a breath, and tapped her headset. "Radio silence." She gripped the controls hard.

"Jammers," Spunkmeyer whispered.

"We're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Who's got signal jammers out here?"

"Probably local militias." He looked at Ferro. "Nothing to worry about. Don't panic. We should be out of it soon."

Within ten minutes, their screens flickered back to life. Hicks's voice filled their headsets. "Everything OK up there?"

"Yeah. Screens went dark, that's all," Spunkmeyer replied.

"Are we still on course?"

"Yes, sir."

After four more hours, seeing the skyscrapers and long white beaches of Rio de Janeiro was a blessing. Spunkmeyer gave a wide smile before tapping his headset. "We're here, ladies and gentlemen. Thank yous for flying with us today."

"I'm hungry and I need to pee, man!" Hudson griped.

"You've been saying that for the last twelve hours!" Vasquez shouted.

* * *

_Question: Is it right for Spunkmeyer to be annoyed by Drake's presence when they're both with Ferro?_


	3. Chapter 3

The dropship finally landed in the hangar of a base on a small island just off the coast. Hicks and Apone immediately began shouting orders as soon as the dropship engines started winding down. Spunkmeyer unbuckled his harness, and looked at Ferro. "We made it. You happy?"

"Yeah," Ferro replied. "Let's go see what our living situation is now."

They grabbed their bags with everyone else, and followed Apone down to the living quarters hallway. The halls were wider than the ones in D.C., and the lights were buzzing overhead.

"OK, people, listen up!" Apone demanded. "Drake, Hudson, Spunkmeyer, Wierzbowski! Room one. Crowe, Hicks, Frost, room two. Dietrich, Vasquez, Ferro, room three."

"No, not the bunk beds," Drake moaned.

"No bitching, Drake," Hicks said. "Get in your rooms, put your stuff away. Help us get the weapons unloaded."

Spunkmeyer squeezed Ferro's hand before heading into his room. He sighed upon seeing the bunk beds, and tossed his bag on a top one. "You got the bottom, 'Ski?"

"Yeah." Wierzbowski kneeled in front of his bed, opening it to put his clothes neatly away.

"You got the top last time, Drake," Hudson said. "Can I have it this time, man?"

"I don't care," Drake grunted.

"OK."

Spunkmeyer sighed while tossing his belongings into his bunk. "Hudson, you better not be breaking wind every Goddamn night."

"Why not, man? You know the base food gives me gas."

"That's why we're hoping this base's food is different," Drake replied. "I'll forgive the bunk beds if the food is better."

"'Better' meaning it doesn't give you two stomach troubles," Wierzbowski said.

"Yeah, exactly."

"I don't care which one of yous poisons the air in the room first; I'm moving to another room," Spunkmeyer replied.

"We all know you wish you were rooming with Ferro," Drake said, earning a snicker from Hudson.

"Well, don't you wish you were rooming with Vasquez?"

"Yeah, but we've dealt with this before. Your relationship isn't going to suffer just because you're not sleeping together due to things you can't control."

"I'll miss her, though."

"You see her and work with her every single day."

"He's just upset they can't fuck every other night, man," Hudson snorted.

Spunkmeyer glared at him. "That is none of your business."

Hudson looked at Drake, grinning.

"Behave," Wierzbowski said, closing his bed. "You three are hopeless sometimes. I'm going to go make myself useful."

"Loosen up, 'Ski," Spunkmeyer sighed. "Don't you know how to crack jokes and have a little fun?"

"I'm not in the mood!" Wierzbowski snapped, turning to Spunkmeyer. "I don't need you being in a pain in the ass. I really don't. Grow up. Accept the fact that you can't sleep with Ferro, and suffer like the rest of us!"

"Don't tell me to grow up!" Spunkmeyer growled, eyes narrowing to hazel slits as he glared up at Wierzbowski.

"Then act the age they put on your bloody papers!"

Rage temporarily blinded Spunkmeyer. His hands flew at Wierzbowski's throat, but Drake stepped in between them.

"Hey, hey, knock it off!" Drake shoved Spunkmeyer back. "What's the matter with you?"

"Yeah, that wasn't called for, man," Hudson added. "What's bugging you?"

"You know what? I don't want to trust you, Drake. You and Vasquez might be fine without sleeping together for a few months, but I'm not!" Spunkmeyer shouted. "We just started! I'm not letting it fall apart!"

"Is that all you care about?" Wierzbowski asked. "You work with her every single day. How do you think Hudson and I feel about not getting to see our girlfriends? At least Drake isn't complaining about Vasquez."

Deep within his chest, Spunkmeyer felt something snap. "You know what? I don't care how perfect you think Drake is. He's not. I am sick and tired of you people acting like he's something special. I don't care. My relationship is my own, and I don't need anyone's help."

"You went to me for help a couple days ago," Drake said, looking unfazed by Spunkmeyer's anger.

"Well, I regret it! Just fuck off and don't talk to me!" Spunkmeyer grabbed his cap and stormed out of the room, tears starting to choke him.

* * *

After helping move everything off the cargo plane, Spunkmeyer made sure no one was watching him as he headed down to sick bay. He had spoken to the psychologist before, but that was awhile ago.

He peered into Dr. Ranelli's office to see the older gentlemen carefully placing his potted plants on the windowsill, which offered a panoramic view of the Rio skyline. "Hey, Doc? Mind if I talk to yous about something?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"Of course. Have a seat, young man," Ranelli replied, not looking up from his plants. "What can I do for you?"

"I dunno. When we were putting our stuff away in our rooms, me and Drake and Hudson and Wierzbowski were goofing around, and then someone joked that I wished I was rooming with Ferro-I mean, I do, but . . . I dunno-I told 'Ski to loosen up, and he got mad because he had to leave his girlfriend behind, so he told me to grow up, act the age on my papers. That pissed me off, so I almost flew at him. Drake pulled us apart. I got mad at Drake because he's OK with not sleeping with his girlfriend for a few months, and I'm not, and I feel like everyone's rubbing it in my face. 'Well, Drake doesn't do this. Drake doesn't do that. Drake does this, that, and the other thing.' I . . . was so angry that I told everyone to just leave me alone. I don't need help in my relationship."

Ranelli poured Spunkmeyer a cup of coffee before sitting across from him. "Compared to the rest of the squad, Drake has had his relationship for longer than anyone else's. Four or five years, I believe it is. Sustaining a relationship for that long takes patience, wisdom, understanding. Everything you will learn in time. That is why people look up to Drake for romantic advice. You should, too."

"Why?"

"I just explained why. Drake knows what he's doing. Vasquez is, admittedly, someone who requires a lot of patience to love and get along with. Drake figured out her personality. She figured out his. Now, they're inseparable. Ferro is not a difficult person, but I think you are neglecting a lot of highly important aspects of a relationship, ones Drake and even Hudson have mastered."

Spunkmeyer snorted. "Hudson? No . . ." He caught Ranelli's stern look. "Oh . . . really? OK, well . . . what am I neglecting?"

"You've misbalanced being physically affectionate, and being her friend. Perhaps this experience of not being able to be completely physically affectionate will give you a chance to explore the emotional side of your relationship, to strengthen it."

"I . . . guess so."

"Physically and mentally, Spunkmeyer, you're still young. You've gone through things most people your age haven't. You sacrificed an important part of your life to seek out happiness. What do you think would happen if you had stayed with your adoptive mother?"

"I don't know. And I don't wanna talk about it or think about it."

"Would you have found someone like Ferro?"

"In a city with over ten million people? Maybe." Spunkmeyer shrugged.

"Maybe. But, even in a city as populous as New York, perhaps you wouldn't have found someone exactly like Ferro."

"You think we're meant to be together?"

"Only if you start putting more effort into your relationship. You will soon find that it's not always sunshine and roses. That hurdle you went through a few weeks ago isn't the only one. The question is, do you have the drive to keep going?" Ranelli looked toward the door when he heard someone knocking. "I believe that's Drake. Is there anything else you'd like to discuss, Spunkmeyer?"

"No, sir." Spunkmeyer stood up. "Thanks for listening." He opened the door, and looked Drake in the eye.

"Sorry, am I interrupting anything?" Drake asked.

"No. I was just leaving," Spunkmeyer replied. He sighed, his mind dwelling on his earlier argument. "Drake, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. I think all of us played a part in that fight. We just moved, it'll take awhile for us to adjust. No hard feelings." He gave Spunkmeyer a genuine smile.

Spunkmeyer didn't bother smiling back. _I was in the wrong the whole damn time._ He squeezed past Drake, unsure of what to think or feel.

* * *

Spunkmeyer didn't feel motivated to do much of anything for the rest of the day, other than lay in his bunk and think. He knew it wasn't good to stew in his thoughts, but it was the only thing he had any motivation to do at the moment.

The problem with the bunk bed rooms was that there was no privacy. Anyone could walk in at any time, and that was what happened. Hudson came in, mumbling to himself while opening his bunk. At one point, he glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, man," he said. "You doing OK?"

Spunkmeyer shrugged. "I dunno. Could be better."

"Well, it's not good to just keep it all in, man. Need someone to talk to." Hudson closed his bunk, looking Spunkmeyer in the eye. "Whaddaya say? I'll listen. Come on down."

"What more do I need to say?" Spunkmeyer sat up. "I already made a shitty impression by making it sound like the only thing I got with Ferro is a physical relationship."

Hudson smirked. "If it makes you feel any better, people thought that about me and Miranda-I mean, looking at my past, it makes sense. They thought it wouldn't last a week and that we were just in it for sex. Well, we proved them wrong. Miranda and I are still together, and we have more than a physical relationship."

Spunkmeyer sat across from Hudson, his back against Wierzbowski's bunk. "I still can't believe the only reason you're even together is because of Drake and his shenanigans. I don't think I met Miranda."

"You haven't. Yet. Yeah, when Drake first told me 'bout her, I thought, 'Jesus, man, it sounds like she was dead-set on fucking you at some point.'" Hudson laughed. "I mean, she kinda was, and it wasn't till I came along that she got over Drake-somewhat-and felt like I was 'the one.' It took a little while, considering I had to leave right after our first date, but we got around to where . . . we talked a little more and talked about how we felt and things like that. The thing I was most worried about was this turning into any of my previous 'relationships.' I even said that after having sex, and I've heard there's a shit-load of things you just don't talk about after sex, but I don't care. It was something on my mind, and I needed to have that conversation with her, because I trust her. That's the important thing; when you trust somebody, you can talk to them about anything, doesn't matter whether you just had sex or not. A lot of the 'rules' about conversations before or after doing your business are stupid anyways."

Spunkmeyer nodded. "So, it's just a really . . . patient process, getting to a point where you feel like you have everything covered in a relationship? You know, the physical, emotional aspects?"

"Yeah. I know your situation is a little weird because you and Ferro have known each other long before you decided to have a romantic relationship, but you need to think about why you became friends with her in the first place, man. Why do you like her? What made you want to spend time with her? Is it because she makes you smile and laugh? Did you have a profound impact on her? Did you tell her a secret and felt like she'd guard it with her life?"

"All of the above, actually," Spunkmeyer said. "We were in the same flight training class. She was having a hard time, and . . . I was kinda the only person who saw her crying and wanted to help. To this day, I don't like seeing her cry. I hate it. It . . . It hurts my chest and I get a twisting feeling in my gut, kinda like someone's shoved in a knife in my stomach."

"You're afraid you won't be able to comfort her. I get that, man. First time I saw Miranda cry, I had the same feeling. Eventually, I learned that . . . the best thing to do is just be there, be a comforting presence. Sometimes, that's all she wants. Now, if you make her cry . . ." Hudson shook his head, clicking his tongue, "well . . . have Drake take care of it. I think he holds the record for not making his girlfriend cry."

Spunkmeyer sighed. "Ferro likes him better anyways."

"Hey, that's not true, man. Ferro loves you. I see it in her eyes when she looks at you. You can't beat yourself up just because she's friends with another guy. You wanna know what . . . she talks about with him?" Hudson moved closer to Spunkmeyer to whisper despite no one being around to listen to them. "She asks for advice about you. She tells him that she loves you, man, and she wants to help you out."

"Honest?"

Hudson made an "X" over his chest. "Cross my heart, man. I would never lie to you. Or anyone else in this squad. Even Dietrich."

"Alright." Spunkmeyer put his head on his knees. "I feel overwhelmed."

Hudson put his arms around Spunkmeyer. "That's OK, man. Take some time to think about yourself. Ferro would understand. Go out in the city and have a beer or-oh, wait. I forgot. Sorry, man. You still got seven-eight months till you can legally drink." He grinned. "I mean, I hear Brazilian food is good. Maybe we can go out to eat and just enjoy each other's company. And the beaches here are nice. We can all go and have fun. This won't be so bad. Clearing your head so you can think and solve your problems is most important now."

* * *

It would be another few days before anyone was allowed to leave base. Apone outlined that when the unit sat down for dinner, along with several other rules. "Same as most other bases, there is one shower for the guys, and one for the girls. No distance contests at the urinals-" Apone looked at Hudson and Frost, "when you get undressed, do it in the locker room. Nobody wants to see your naked butts from the hallway."

"Hudson." Drake pretended to sneeze.

"No borrowing each other's razors. No sharing of any product, whatsoever, that includes body wash, shampoo, towels, washcloths. We want to minimize infections as much as possible. I don't care how much you trust each other, _don't do it_. And treat each toilet like you have your own bathrooms again. If you clog it, plunge it. Don't leave your shit, literal or otherwise, lying around-"

"Why is everyone looking at me, man?!" Hudson whined.

"Hudson, shut up," Apone said. "Bathrooms will be cleaned once a week. Everyone will pitch in unless you got a medical document that says you can't. No excuses. Alright, in two days, I will start allowing day passes to be issued so you can go out in Rio and eat and drink and lay on the beach. Curfew is twenty hundred. No later."

"I also want you all to be cautious when you go out," Hicks added. "No one is to go out alone. Take a buddy. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," everyone said.

"Alright. Glad we still understand each other-Drake, eat your food and stop picking at it." Hicks gave Drake a dirty look. "Seriously."

Drake simply grunted at him, earning him a hard elbow from Wierzbowski.

"Anyways," Hicks sighed, "you all should be familiar with new base procedures. I should not have to remind you of certain things. After chow, Spunkmeyer, Ferro, I want to see you in our office."

"Are we in trouble?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"No. Got something for you to do."

Looking at each other quizzically, Spunkmeyer and Ferro headed down to Hicks and Apone's new office after dumping the remains of their trays in the garbage. Hicks closed the door behind them after they entered and sat in the chairs in front of the desk.

"When we're done, Spunkmeyer, I want you to stay behind to have a chat," Hicks said, sitting on the edge of the desk with an unlit cigarette in his mouth. "OK. We got a little assignment for the two of you. The Marines stationed up in Manaus are in need of supplies, and we're the nearest base that can deliver. You two are going to do that tomorrow. Should be an easy trip. Go, drop it off, come back. You don't even have to leave the dropship when you land."

Spunkmeyer shrugged. "OK." He glanced at Ferro. "No problem. We can do that."

"What about the GPS?" Ferro asked. "We still need all those coordinates reinstalled."

"That'll be taken care of when you get back."

"You don't think it's dangerous?"

"I do think it's dangerous, but I don't think you'll have any difficulties on this trip. If we could get a technician here sooner, we would, but the guy's not gonna be here for another two days, and I already told the Manaus guys that they'd have their supplies by tomorrow afternoon." Hicks let out his breath. "Do you trust me, Ferro?"

_I said the same thing and she left my bed because of it._ Spunkmeyer resisted a snort.

Ferro sighed, looking down at her lap. "Whatever you say, Hicks."

"Everything'll be fine. If anything happens, we will do our damndest to get out there and bring you home. I'm not saying any of this to dismiss you, but we have a job to do and we need to get it done."

Ferro nodded, and was given permission to leave the room. Once the door was closed, both Hicks and Apone looked at Spunkmeyer, eyes narrowed.

Spunkmeyer wanted to sink into the floor. He felt unbelievably small. "Yes?" He swallowed hard.

"What's this I hear you almost got into a fight with Wierzbowski?" Hicks raised his eyebrows, still looking down at Spunkmeyer.

His heart sinking into the pit of his stomach, Spunkmeyer weakly nodded.

"Why?"

"He got upset when I told him to lighten up. We were . . . already kinda going back and forth about how . . . I still have my girlfriend, and he had to leave his behind, and he turned it on me, and . . . that pissed me off. Shouldn't have." Spunkmeyer swallowed again, knowing that wasn't the real story. He was not about to tell Hicks, because it would confirm any suspicions he had about Spunkmeyer being underage.

Hicks thought for a moment, occasionally looking at Apone. Finally, he settled his gaze on Spunkmeyer, and, boy, did he look annoyed. "I'm not sure what pisses me off more, Spunkmeyer, the fact that this was all over your girlfriends, or that you actually almost put your hands on Wierzbowski to hurt him."

Apone glanced up at Hicks, then back at Spunkmeyer. "Did you apologize to 'Ski?"

"No, sir." Spunkmeyer looked down at his lap.

"Go do that when we let you go," Hicks said. "You're gonna wait four days instead of two to get any day passes. Now, go apologize to Wierzbowski. Everyone should be getting in the shower right now."

* * *

Still hanging his head, Spunkmeyer headed to his room to grab nightclothes from his bunk. He sighed as he walked down the hall to the men's shower room, hearing everyone talking and laughing.

". . . Look, I know Apone said no distance contests, man, but I still think I can land any urinal from the opposite side of the room," Hudson said.

"You do know you're the reason he has to say that every single time we change bases, right?" Frost said. "You said the same thing, and then we had to clean up after you, and that was it when we had to ask where the heavy-duty bleach was."

"Maybe if you weren't making me laugh, we wouldn't have been caught, man!"

Spunkmeyer wrote his name on a locker before opening it, holding the lock itself, a spare he'd carried since his first assignment, in his teeth. From the corner of his eye, he could see Wierzbowski tying a towel around his waist before stepping into the humid shower room.

"What is this sorcery?" Drake moaned. "There's hot water!"

"There won't be once we're all in there, man," Hudson said.

"Then you have to wait for me to finish."

"We're already butt-naked, Drake, we're not waiting for you just so we can take a bloody shower," Wierzbowski replied.

Drake's middle finger appeared over the top of the shower stall.

Wierzbowski leaned over to Crowe, who had just entered the bathroom. "Go get me an ice cube or something."

Crowe looked confused until Wierzbowski whispered what Drake just did, then gave a sly grin before jogging out of the bathroom. Five minutes later, he returned with a small plastic bag of ice cubes. Wierzbowski stepped over to Drake's stall, and dropped some of the ice cubes down Drake's back.

Everyone burst into laughter when Drake shrieked. He yanked back the shower curtain. "_Who did that?! That wasn't funny!_"

"It was hilarious, man!" Hudson was laughing so hard, his face was red.

Drake glared at Wierzbowski, seeing the bag of ice in his hand. "Fuck you."

Wierzbowski grinned. "Didn't think I had it in me, did you?"

Grabbing his towel from a hook, Drake hastily wrapped his towel around his waist before leaving the shower room.

Spunkmeyer hung up his towel before heading into a stall. _I'll apologize when I'm done. _Even though none of the attention was on him, he felt like everyone knew he was guilty.

As he left the stall, he cleared his throat. "Hey, 'Ski?"

"Yes?" Wierzbowski stepped aside to let Frost leave the shower room.

"I . . ." Spunkmeyer swallowed, and waited for Hudson and Crowe to leave as well, "wanted to apologize about earlier. I've been an ass ever since we got here, and . . . I was in the wrong the whole time."

Wierzbowski thought for a moment, then he sighed. "Apology accepted." He turned to leave without another word.

"That's it?"

"What else is there to say?" Wierzbowski shrugged. "You apologized, I accepted. We can move on."

Figuring it was best not to push the matter forward, Spunkmeyer got dressed and put most of his hygiene supplies in his locker. When he walked out, he heard talking and water running in the girls' bathroom. Leaning against the doorway, he planned to wait for Ferro.

". . . Pretty sure Hudson's already made a mess in the men's room," Vasquez was saying.

"I'd be shocked if he didn't," Dietrich replied.

"Pity we can't go watch the show," Ferro said.

"Dear God, Ferro, you know damn well none of us want to see Hudson naked. Again," Vasquez sighed. "You probably just want to see Spunkmeyer."

"They are all unattractive, physically," Dietrich muttered.

"Not Frost," Ferro replied. "Hicks, Crowe, Drake." She paused. "Wierzbowski, maybe."

Dietrich fell silent.

"Wierzbowski is not that attractive," Vasquez said.

"He has a good heart, that's all." Dietrich turned off her showerhead. "Can we move on?"

"Why? Do you . . . _like_ Wierzbowski?" Ferro asked.

"Not in _that_ sense of the word."

Spunkmeyer grinned as he listened. _Girl talk._

Ferro was not the first person to leave the bathroom. In fact, it was Dietrich, and she gave Spunkmeyer a disgusted look. "You pervert! What the fuck are you doing standing outside our shower?!"

"Is that Hudson?" Vasquez asked.

"No! It's Spunkmeyer!"

"What are you doing out there, sweetie?" Ferro called.

"Waiting for you!" Spunkmeyer called back.

"Well, can you wait somewhere else? I'm almost done."

"OK." Spunkmeyer waited a few seconds, and then said, "I miss you already."

Ferro laughed. "Give me two minutes. Be patient."

* * *

_Question: Who has given the better romantic advice to Spunkmeyer? Drake or Hudson?_


	4. Chapter 4

Unable to think of a good place to sit and wait, Spunkmeyer stayed at the end of the hallway, waiting for Ferro to leave the girls' shower. He was completely unaware of Drake slinking up behind him, peering around him. Eventually, though, Spunkmeyer became aware of a second breath, and he glanced at Drake. "What are you-"

Drake dashed around him, and grabbed Vasquez in a hug after she left the bathroom. "Gotcha!" He squeezed her tightly.

"I'm still wet!" Vasquez shouted. She tried pushing Drake off, but sighed and patted his cheek. "It's only been a few hours and you already miss me?"

"Yes."

Ferro smirked at them as she walked out of the bathroom, carrying her dirty laundry in a bag. She made eye contact with Spunkmeyer, and her smile got bigger. She gestured for him to follow her down to the laundry room so she could toss her stuff in a basket. "Your turn," she whispered.

"For what?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"For a hug."

"OK." Spunkmeyer opened his arms, letting Ferro hug him tightly. He hugged her back, and they stayed standing there for some time, despite both still being wet from their showers. "Can I be honest with you?"

"You're always honest with me."

"OK. Well . . . I'm gonna miss you tonight."

"I knew you were going to say that."

"How?"

"I know you. I know you very well. And also because Drake told me about what you did today."

Spunkmeyer's face flushed red, and he closed his eyes. "I apologized to Wierzbowski. He forgave me. It's all said and done. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Spunkmeyer, why don't you want to talk about . . . anything anymore?"

"OK, that's not true. I'm working on it. I shouldn't have said what I did a few nights ago. It was wrong. I . . . I dunno." He drew in a breath. "I love you, and . . . I want this relationship to work. I haven't been doing a good job, lately. I've . . . I've neglected being your friend."

Ferro kissed Spunkmeyer's cheek. "I don't think you've neglected anything. You're still my best friend. You're new to this. I can't fault you for making mistakes, OK?"

"OK. You're not . . . mad about what I did earlier, are yous?"

"I'm disappointed, because Wierzbowski has done nothing to anyone, and you made Drake upset." Ferro poked Spunkmeyer's forehead. "Shame on you."

When you say 'upset,' you mean I made him cry?"

"No, but he was very sulky the whole day."

"Well, Wierzbowski put ice down his back in the shower, so I can't imagine that helps. Yes, Wierzbowski is capable of being mean. I think he's picking it up from Dietrich."

Ferro glanced around, making sure they were alone. "Speaking of Dietrich, I think she's got a thing for Wierzbowski."

Spunkmeyer snorted. "What makes you say that?"

"She kinda acted a little funny when we were talking about attractiveness and I brought up Wierzbowski."

"She always acts a little funny. I wouldn't think much of it, to be honest. Besides, even if Wierzbowski wasn't already dating somebody else, I can't see him with Dietrich. She'd test his patience way too much."

"You know, you're right. Poor 'Ski, I'm so glad he has Eliza. They're so sweet together. Dietrich wouldn't be a good fit for him." Ferro grinned up at Spunkmeyer. "We have to get up for that mission tomorrow. Should go to bed a little early."

"Kiss me goodnight, first."

Ferro stood on her toes to kiss Spunkmeyer full on the lips, flooding him with a rush of passion. When they pulled apart, she rubbed his unshaven cheeks. "I love you. Sweet dreams."

"You have the sweetest dreams," Spunkmeyer replied, reluctantly letting go.

* * *

"It's cold in here, man, I'm wearing my sweater." Hudson pulled a turtleneck over his head before climbing up his bunk. "These mattresses are better than the ones in Spain, man."

"They feel a lot better on my back," Drake said, already laying in his bunk.

"You two better not be talking all night," Wierzbowski muttered.

"Aw, no, I gotta fart, man," Hudson moaned.

"No!" Spunkmeyer and Wierzbowski yelled at the same time.

"Just kidding, man!" Hudson laughed.

"For the love of God, Hudson, go to sleep," Wierzbowski snarled.

"OK."

Drake was out like a light, curled up and snoring under his blanket, while Hudson was trying to get comfortable, tossing and turning. Spunkmeyer stared up at a poster of Manhattan at night that he had taped above his bed earlier. He sighed, suddenly feeling homesick. _How long's it been since I've seen home? Jesus, it'll be five years since we got stationed there in a couple of months._

Eventually, Hudson flopped down on his pillow, giving a heavy, contented sigh. At one point, it seemed like Spunkmeyer was the only one still awake. He did drift off, and he dreamt of home.

It felt like only a few minutes had passed when Spunkmeyer heard Hicks banging on everyone's doors. At least there were only two doors he had to bang on instead of nine. Hudson gave an obnoxiously loud yawn and scratched himself after sitting up. "Good morning, man!"

Drake stirred a little, and grunted at him.

Hudson dropped down from his bunk. "Aww, does somebody need his coffee?"

"Yes," Drake growled.

Hudson turned to Wierzbowski. "Up and at 'em, man!"

Wierzbowski gave him a dirty look, and covered his head with a pillow.

"How 'bout you, Spunkmeyer? Dontcha have to be up early to beat the traffic in '_New Yawk,' man?"_

"First of all-" Spunkmeyer sat up, glaring at Hudson, "you don't 'beat the traffic' in New York. You don't drive in New York. Nobody with half a brain drives in New York. You wanna drive in New York? Become a cab driver."

"You know, Hudson, we could've slept five more minutes if you didn't rile him up," Drake groaned.

"Kiss my ass, Drake," Spunkmeyer muttered.

"Good morning to you, too."

Everyone marched down to the mess hall after getting dressed, pushing and teasing each other along the way. Spunkmeyer's mood improved when Ferro sat next to him, and he kissed her cheek. "Hi."

"Hi. Ready for today?" Ferro asked.

"Yeah, I guess. Sounds like it's gonna be a real bore."

"I would rather it be boring than something happen because we don't have those rescue coordinates in the damn GPS." Ferro looked down at her tray, clenching her fists. "Can't believe I did that."

"It'll be fixed when we get back, don't worry." Spunkmeyer patted her back. "I'll be with you, and you know I'm just as good a pilot as you. It is impossible to fail with me by your side."

"Unless he's been drinking," Drake said with his mouth full.

"Piss off."

Drake gave a lopsided smirk, then gave a more genuine smile to Ferro. And Ferro smiled back.

"These're powdered eggs! I ain't eating them, man!" Hudson whined.

* * *

While prepping the dropship for their flight to Manaus, Spunkmeyer noticed Drake walking up to the ramp, and calling, "Hey, Ferro!"

Ferro set down her helmet, patted Spunkmeyer's shoulder, and then jogged down the ramp. "What?"

"Just came to say goodbye," Drake said. "I know it's not gonna be a long trip, but . . . you know, it's nice to just say bye."

Ferro grabbed him in a hug. They stood there, gently rocking back and forth as Drake hugged her as well and patted her back. Ferro kissed Drake on the cheek, and he did the same to her. Then they let go, and Ferro went back into the dropship, waving to him.

Drake had to get out of the way as Wierzbowski and Frost carried crates of supplies onto the dropship. Spunkmeyer watched them while Ferro got in the pilot's seat. The two gave Spunkmeyer a thumbs-up when they were done, and quickly jogged out of the dropship.

Spunkmeyer sealed the cockpit door behind him, grabbing his helmet and sitting in the co-pilot's chair. The coordinates for Manaus were already in. All they had to do was fly. "Alright. Ready to go," he said, adjusting his helmet.

Ferro began carefully maneuvering the dropship out of the hangar. She was quiet the whole time, and so was Spunkmeyer.

"At least it's a nice day, right?" Spunkmeyer said. "No clouds. No rain. Just sun and blue sky."

"Really? That's the first conversation you wanna have here?" Ferro sighed.

"Well, I didn't think we could actually talk while flying."

"It's just us. There's no one in the back to overhear us."

Spunkmeyer worked his jaw while thinking. "OK, well, what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. Not the weather." Ferro glanced at Spunkmeyer from the corner of her eye. "Tell me about what Christmas is like in New York. I'm curious. And I know you'll probably talk for the next hour or so without shutting up."

Spunkmeyer grinned. "Christmas in New York. Well, you know how Thirty-Fourth Street and Macy's and all that are pretty much inseparable from Christmas in New York, mainly because of the Thanksgiving Parade. Look, unless you get an apartment with a good view of that street, you are not seeing that parade in person. There's a ton of people, it's cold, and only native Manhattanites can tolerate the noise-unless you like a lot of noise. It's loud. You're from a small town, I dunno if you could handle it."

"I fly a very loud dropship for a living. I can handle a giant parade."

"OK, suit yourself. Anyways, some people, after talking to me for a little bit, say, 'Well, if you live there, doesn't it bore you?' and I says, 'No. The parade only comes around a year. Do you get bored of shit that you see once a year?' I guess what was baffling to me was . . . Kendriss never took me to _anything_. I mean, the parade's in Midtown, and we were right outside Little Italy, so it's not that hard to get to, but she had the same excuse every year: 'I don't have time.' She worked a lot, and . . . looking back on it, I think she did to just . . . avoid me. Avoid telling me the truth and avoid . . . I guess loving me. Anyways, I was thirteen when I decided that I wasn't putting up with this anymore, and I was gonna go to the parade by myself. Now, I know what you're thinking, 'Alone? In New York? That's nuts!' It is nuts, but unlike in the movies where the kid getting lost is just visiting, I was born there. I was already toughened up. I knew how to be careful. So, I take some money from Kendriss's purse-yes, I know, it's stealing, but I was starting to hate her at the time-and then I go down the street to the nearest subway stop real early Thanksgiving morning, and I'm off to Midtown."

"Did you actually get away with this?"

"She didn't care! Did not care in the slightest."

"No, I mean, did anyone notice that a thirteen-year-old _child_ was on the subway without his parents?"

Spunkmeyer shrugged. "I don't remember. Anyways, I get off the subway, and a bunch of roads have already been closed off. What do I do? I climb over the roadblocks, I start pushing through people, and I get into the mall next to the old Macy's building. I go up a few flights of stairs, I order a hot chocolate from a café on the fifth floor, and then I park myself near a window and watch. That's all there was to it."

Ferro was quiet for a moment. "And you didn't get hurt?"

"Nope. I'll have to take you to the same place, someday."

Ferro nodded a little. "I can't really think of anything . . . exciting from where I'm from. The high school football team's homecoming game is probably the most exciting thing that happens, and that's literally nothing compared to . . . everything in New York City."

"Don't say that. If that's a tradition and something you and everyone in that town with you appreciate and value, then that's something worth getting excited over."

A weak smile tugged at the edges of Ferro's mouth. "You're right. There's also the county fair. I should take you to that."

"You will. I know you will. And I'll enjoy it."

Now Ferro smiled. "Promise?"

"Well, I don't know if that's something I can promise . . . but I promise I won't be an ass, or an embarrassment." He paused, looking up from his screen to examine the landscape. The vegetation became denser the further away they went from the city. "Ferro, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What all . . . did you tell your parents about me?"

"I told them you're very nice, thoughtful. We work together and he's a wonderful partner, the best I could ever get. I told them how you were very helpful in training. I also mentioned you're from Manhattan, but I didn't go into detail. You do know I will never, ever tell them about your past without your permission, right? I kept it short and sweet, and I didn't say anything that you'd find embarrassing."

"Thanks. That's all I wanted to know." Spunkmeyer felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "I really am sorry about getting upset over that. I should trust you, and I know you'd never tell people something that'd be embarrassing to me."

"Apology accepted, sweetie. I'm sorry for not telling you that I just told them the basics. See? I have stuff to work on, too. Not just you." Ferro sighed. "I dated in high school, but I feel just as inexperienced as you."

"You at least know what mistakes to avoid."

"Not really." Ferro was quiet again. "I got dumped at senior ball, without a word. He found somebody prettier, and just . . . left me at the table, with nobody. Didn't feel good."

"You don't have to worry about me dumping you. I won't ever do that," Spunkmeyer replied.

Ferro didn't respond right away. "I was worried that would happen a month ago, when we were arguing about sleeping together and how we've had five years to think about each other. One of us was gonna say it . . . you know, 'I don't want to see you anymore.'"

"And it didn't happen."

"Yeah. Thanks to Drake."

Spunkmeyer sighed. "I shouldn't be pissy with Drake. I mean, without him, we would've failed."

"He does care about both of us, not just me."

"I know. The fact that he helped us says he cares and wants us to succeed in a relationship."

"Are you gonna apologize when we get back?"

"Yes."

"Good. He is my friend, and I don't want to have my friends and my boyfriend not getting along over an easily fixable reason. It's not like he's mean to you, or he wants to 'take' me from you."

"Then how come you kiss and hug and all that?"

"Different kind of kissing. I would never mouth-kiss him the way I do with you. And we look at the past a little differently. We can make jokes about my crush on him without it getting uncomfortable or awkward."

"Ah. Look, I'm OK with it as long as you're not making out or having sex with him behind my back."

"And we're not."

"And I believe you. Because I love you."

* * *

As the dropship approached Manaus, Ferro let out another sigh when the screens went black over the same area they had passed over just a day earlier. "I don't have a good feeling about this, Spunkmeyer."

"I don't have a good feeling, either," Spunkmeyer replied. "We still don't know who's down there, but they can't be friendlies."

"I want this mission done and over with."

"I know. We're not that far from Manaus. Maybe twenty minutes." Spunkmeyer looked out the windshield, seeing something poking out of the green sea below. "That's an anti-aircraft battery."

Ferro's face paled. "You serious?"

"Yep." Spunkmeyer looked back at his dark screens. "Just keep on track. We don't know who it belongs to."

They remained quiet until arriving at the Manaus base. Ferro was calmer and collected as she carefully landed the dropship into the base's hangar. Once the engines died down, Spunkmeyer lowered the ramp and unbuckled his harness to meet the squad's corporal.

A young man with thick, dark hair walked up the ramp, and held out his hand to Spunkmeyer. "Thanks for coming on short notice. You're from the Rio squad, right?"

"Yes, sir," Spunkmeyer replied. "Hey, can I ask you something? Who's camped out in the Amazon? Our screens have been going dark over a certain area, and we spotted an AA battery not the far south of here."

"No one's really sure. Command just started monitoring it a few weeks ago. Satellites can't see anything, though. It's just a big black spot on the map. They're thinking about sending spies and saboteurs in to see if it's a jammer dish or network. All we know is it ain't friendly. It's not us, and it's not the Brazilian military, either."

Spunkmeyer nodded.

"Be careful on the way back. That's all I can really say."

While the supplies were being unloaded, Spunkmeyer and Ferro were free to grab food, and a bathroom break. It would take about an hour, giving the two time to just sit in the base courtyard.

"We should get back to base before evening chow," Spunkmeyer said, looking at his watch. "Shouldn't be a big deal, as long as we're careful."

Ferro rubbed her face. "If something happens, no one's going to-"

"Have you just met the people in our squad? They'll search the whole damn rainforest for us, and they won't quit till they find us." Spunkmeyer reached over to touch Ferro's shoulder. "We'll be fine, I promise." He leaned over the table to kiss the tip of her nose. "You trust me?"

She nodded, and squeezed Spunkmeyer's hand.

"Hey, when you say that you trust me, it makes me feel good." Spunkmeyer gave her a smile, putting his other hand over hers and squeezing it tightly.

* * *

_Question: Would Spunkmeyer and Ferro have gotten over their difficulties in "Looming Dusk" without Drake's help?_


	5. Chapter 5

"Next stop, home," Spunkmeyer said while sitting in the co-pilot's seat of the dropship. He adjusted his helmet, and glanced at Ferro while buckling his harness. "You doing OK?"

"Just happy to leave," Ferro replied with a sigh.

A couple of clouds had appeared in the sky as they left the base hangar, but the weather was still clear. Spunkmeyer glanced up from his screens a few times, scanning the forest canopy anything that seemed out of place.

Neither of them felt like talking. There wasn't an oppressive air of boredom like there was on their way to Manaus. Instead, there was a sense of dread beginning to squirm in the center of Spunkmeyer's gut. He took a single deep breath, wishing he could just dismiss it as nerves, but it wasn't going away.

"Anything?" Ferro asked.

"No." _Not yet, anyway._

Time passed before the screens flickered out again. Ferro let out a sigh, and then Spunkmeyer looked over at where he had seen the anti-aircraft battery on their way in.

The barrel had moved.

The dread feeling in his gut grew worse. "Ferro, we shouldn't go in a straight line. I think that thing's gonna fire on us. Do anything, just don't let it get a good sight on us."

Ferro didn't respond as she turned the dropship to their left, jerking Spunkmeyer in his seat.

"Hey!"

"Think of it as payback for the first night we slept together."

Spunkmeyer blushed, and wasn't sure if he should laugh or not. "I wasn't _that_ rough, now, was I?"

"You were kinda rough, sweetie."

He managed a weak grin. "Alright, let's do a serpentine path until we get outta this black spot."

"That means going back toward-"

"Just do it!"

"Fine. I'm trusting you-"

They were both jolted as bullets peppered the side of the dropship with loud _pings_. Warning lights were flashing everywhere. "Dammit, we're starting to depressurize!" Spunkmeyer began fitting a mask to his face as alarms started going off. His ears had popped, and he felt lightheaded. "How're we doing, Ferro?"

"I don't know!" Ferro was scrambling to get her mask on and pilot the dropship at the same time.

A screaming sound was hurtling toward them. Spunkmeyer felt his thoughts come to a halt as his life flashed before his eyes. _No, you didn't give up in the past. You're not giving up now! _Spunkmeyer took a breath. "_Ferro! Eject! EJECT!_"

The missile collided with the dropship as Spunkmeyer yanked on a lever to eject the seat. The explosion temporarily deafened him. Every organ in his chest and belly suddenly lurched downward as he was launched out of the cockpit. He could see bright flashes of bullets coming from the direction he had seen the anti-aircraft battery. Smoke and fire had enveloped the back end of the ship as it plummeted into the dense forest below. He watched it fall, and he didn't see Ferro. _No . . . no, no, no . . ._

He couldn't panic forever. Realizing the seat lost momentum, Spunkmeyer pulled the ripcord of the parachute. The seat fell out from under him after he released the harness. He clung tightly to the parachute cords, his thoughts and emotions racing.

The wind moved him past the dropship wreckage. He cried out for Ferro, despite knowing it was pointless. Mixed with the panic was the feeling that someone had torn part of his heart out, a feeling he was all too familiar with. Tears began streaming down his face. "Ferro . . ." he moaned.

He began falling, slowly, toward the jungle canopy. His emotions were clouding his judgement on what to do next. He didn't know where to land.

Then again, he didn't have control of that.

A thick branch of a massive tree poking above the canopy snagging the parachute. Spunkmeyer found himself being swung downward, and then part of the chute ripped. There was nothing but a maze of green and brown below as he fell, and his screaming was stifled when his head struck a branch on the way down.

* * *

The first thing Spunkmeyer upon coming around was something pulling on his ribcage. Next, he felt as though he was hanging in mid-air, and, for a moment, wondered if he was dead.

He could feel his heart beating against his ribs. It was fast and strong. No, he wasn't dead. He drew in a breath, despite the pain from something tight along his chest.

Opening his eyes, Spunkmeyer saw the dark ground beneath him, and heard birds all around him. He let his senses continue to return, and then tried to look up. The cords of his chute had become tangled in the branches, and they were starting to hurt.

Putting his head back down, he let himself gently swing for a little bit as he tried to piece together what happened. The dropship had been shot down, and now he was alone in the rain forest.

_I didn't see Ferro eject. That doesn't mean she's dead, but it also doesn't mean she's alive. _Spunkmeyer sighed, continuing to swing as he thought. His head was throbbing, and he began to wonder, _I did tell her to eject, didn't I?_

Part of his mind was still fuzzy from the hit, and he cursed himself for not being able to remember such a small thing. Hanging his head again, he tried getting more blood to it, hoping it would jog his memory. _Fuck me._ He sobbed. _Maybe I didn't tell her._

Then again, maybe she was alive. Badly hurt, but alive. Spunkmeyer stopped swinging to reach into his flak jacket, groping around for the hilt of his survival knife. "Gotcha," he breathed, pulling it out. Flicking the blade out of its hilt, Spunkmeyer sliced the cord over his chest, then his legs, leaving his shoulders for last so he didn't fall, or hang upside-down. He dropped about five feet, landing in the dirt. Putting the blade away, he could feel bruises across his body, and he was amazed he hadn't been more seriously injured.

He took a moment to try and evaluate his head. _I'll be fine. I'm walking OK. I'm . . . starting to think more clearly. I hurt, but that's it._

Then the big question struck him. _Where the fuck am I?_

The dropship was totaled, and it had no rescue coordinates to send to a satellite. Spunkmeyer realized they were hundreds, maybe over a thousand miles away from base, and possibly in hostile territory. He could smell smoke, so maybe he wasn't that far away from the wreckage. He wasn't sure what was more important at this point; making sure Ferro was OK, or surviving and getting back to his unit.

He had heard that if he got lost, it was the duty of every Marine to return to his squad. However, no one was around to tell him he was failing for not immediately getting to work on returning to his unit. Ferro was, after all, a fellow Marine, and Marines don't leave their own behind.

Spunkmeyer headed in the direction of the smoke, but he wasn't sure just how far the wind had taken him away from the site. Not to mention, the jungle canopy had obscured cliffs and chasms from above. Regardless, Spunkmeyer was able to pinpoint the direction of north, and started walking.

_How do I deal with the idea that Ferro could be gone?_ As much as he didn't want to think about it, he knew it was a possibility. He didn't see her eject (he still couldn't remember if he told her to eject), and from the looks of the crash, there was no way Ferro could've escaped unharmed. _I should've stayed and died with her._

Letting his emotions take over, Spunkmeyer sat on a mossy rock, putting his head in his hands. He didn't know how much time had passed, but it was somehow enough for so many emotions to be bottled at once, and they came pouring out in an unstoppable torrent of tears. He sobbed hard. He'd lost the first person to make him feel loved, the first person he loved.

Spunkmeyer cried until he was physically exhausted. His body ached, and it took him some time before he stood up to keep walking. Yet he was still hoping that there was a chance Ferro was alive.

* * *

The smell of smoke wasn't as strong when the wind changed direction, but Spunkmeyer still knew he was heading north. He knew he'd come across the wreckage eventually.

It was getting darker, and he was both thirsty and hungry. Water was more important than food, though, which meant he had to find a source of fresh water, soon.

The dropship had survival supplies on board, including a specialized filter that could be used on any water source to take out mud and bacteria, as well as "permafrost tanks" to cool it after it was boiled. Spunkmeyer was just praying those hadn't been destroyed in the crash. Those, and the MREs, of course.

Spunkmeyer jumped when he heard a soft sound to his left. He turned to see a large snake moving up the trunk of the tree, and his stomach contorted. Instinctively, Spunkmeyer put his hand on his pistol inside his flak jacket, taking it out and letting his arm hang at his side. "Just don't come near me," he whispered aloud, a bundle of nerves tightening in his chest.

The dense cover above made it darker than it really was. It had to be several hours past when he and Ferro were due back at base. He wondered what everyone was thinking, and feeling. He knew he missed them, even if they gave him a hard time.

_And they miss me, right?_

It was awful to think that he wouldn't be missed, even though he knew in the deepest parts of his heart that the others were missing him and probably really worried about him and Ferro. Maybe it was more of a reflection of how he saw himself, rather than the others.

_I know I'll hate myself if Ferro's gone._

How was such a thought so physically exhausting? Spunkmeyer had to sit again, taking a moment to think, to cry once more. It had been a long time since he had cried this hard.

In reality, that was. In his dreams where he was calling for his father, he was always crying. He was hoping someone would hear him, but that never happened. No one heard him. Even in crowded spaces.

Spunkmeyer stood up, telling himself he just had to keep going. Find Ferro and salvage whatever survival gear he could from the dropship. If there was anything left of the dropship.

In a relatively short amount of time, it had become pitch-black, and Spunkmeyer had no flashlight. The sounds of wildlife had gotten louder, and he knew they could all see much better than he could in the dark. He held his pistol tightly, taking the safety off.

Blood drained from his face when he heard a screeching sound, followed by claws raking into something fleshy. A second later, the body of a snake dropped from a tree. Long, deep scratches covered it, and blood was soaking into the soil.

Spunkmeyer looked up the tree, even though it was too dark to see much of anything. He held his breath, glancing around the trees. Releasing his breath once, Spunkmeyer felt his heart pounding faster and harder. His eyes darted back and forth.

He wasn't standing around anymore. Without a second thought, he sprinted off further into the forest.

There was something running with him, and it wasn't human.

Spunkmeyer didn't look back. Not for half a second. Pain seared through his right ankle when his foot was lodged under a root jutting from the ground, and he fell flat on his chest, the wind knocked from him. Tenderly pulling his foot out from under the root, Spunkmeyer winced, cursing to himself. He could feel his ankle swelling against his boot, and he wasn't paying attention to the figure landing silently as a cat on the fallen tree nearby.

Seeing movement from the corner of his eye, Spunkmeyer looked to see a masked animal crawling closer to him. He tried to move away, pointing his gun at it. "Dammit, I'm allergic to you!" he shouted at the gray-clad Annexer. "Go on! Shoo!"

It hissed at him.

"I said, get outta here!"

Two loud _bangs_ echoed through the forest. The Annexer had dashed off in fright. Spunkmeyer lowered his weapon, breathing heavily. He grimaced as pain throbbed up and down his lower leg. There was no way he could walk on it, and he couldn't tell if it was broken or just sprained.

He forced himself to stand anyway. Biting back a shout of pain, Spunkmeyer immediately took his right foot off the ground. He grabbed a stick from the ground, hoping it would make a good enough crutch for the time being.

* * *

Spunkmeyer continued through the night, almost completely exhausted. He knew any old stick wouldn't make a good crutch. _I could make one with a couple of sticks put together, using the parachute cord, but I have no idea how far back that is. Who knows how far I've got till I reach the wreckage._

He came to a point where a cliff dropped down to more forest below, off to his side. Part of him was glad to see a clear sky for once, instead of green, green, and more green. At least he didn't have to find a way down the cliff.

He could feel his body begging for sleep. There were a few times where he was asleep on his feet. The snap of a stick would jolt him right back up, though.

The Annexer hadn't reappeared in several hours, and Spunkmeyer was hoping it didn't show up again. He didn't have anything to treat an allergic reaction. Then again, what kind of reaction would occur from contact with an extraterrestrial species? Would he just go into shock, like he did when injected with the hormone? Would he develop a rash or hives?

He didn't want to find out.

His thoughts wandered as he kept walking. His heart ached when they turned to the rest of his unit. Drake. Hudson. Wierzbowski. Frost. Everybody. Right now, he should be asleep in his bunk, or choking on Hudson's noxious fumes after an awful base dinner. Spunkmeyer grinned, albeit sadly. He couldn't believe he was missing that. _Maybe because anything is better than being out in the wilderness right now._

Adjusting his grip on the stick, Spunkmeyer found it harder and harder to keep his right foot off the ground without proper support. Pausing for a moment, he slowly lowered his right foot to the dirt, and groaned aloud when a sudden ache pulsated up his leg. There was still a swollen sensation inside his boot, but he refused to take his boot off. Not in this terrain.

Still holding the stick tight, Spunkmeyer sat on an enormous root. He looked around for any animals that might think he was easy prey, and then leaned against the trunk of the tree. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world-the boot camp bunk beds were more comfortable-but he was so tired that he fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

The first thing Spunkmeyer saw upon waking up was sunlight spilling in through the canopy. He looked down at his boots, noting the bulge on his right ankle. _At least I know this wasn't just a bad dream, like I was hoping._

Rubbing his face, Spunkmeyer grabbed his stick, making himself stand while trying to avoid putting pressure on his right leg. Though he wanted to keep going, he couldn't ignore the fact that he wanted food and water badly.

_I have no way of filtering water if I find it. Maybe I can find a fruit or something with a lot of water in it, but what's safe to eat around here? _Spunkmeyer looked up, searching the trees and bushes for something that looked edible. _Don't they have mangoes here?_

Instead of continuing to head north, Spunkmeyer wandered westward, off his path, searching for fruit. He was overjoyed when he came across a coconut tree, and held onto the trunk while using his stick to try and knock down one of the coconuts. Once one fell, he took out his knife, and sat with the big fruit on his lap, working tirelessly to cut it open. When he caught sight of the white insides, he pried it open, drinking the milk graciously. It was deliciously sweet and creamy, and he didn't even pause to breathe after the milk was finished to start gnawing out the meat. He picked both halves of the coconut clean, until there was almost no white left on the inside. Tossing the husk away, he looked up at the tree again, wondering if he should have another.

Surely, it would hold him over for a few hours. Picking up his stick, Spunkmeyer sought out north again, hoping he was getting closer to the dropship wreckage, hoping he was getting closer to Ferro.

_I just hope she's alive. I don't care if all our supplies were destroyed. I just want her alive. _Spunkmeyer's heart twisted. He wondered just how he could cry again while so dehydrated. He found himself sinking to the ground again, hugging his left leg. The tears didn't come as quick as they did before. He was exhausted emotionally as well as physically. "I have to go on," he moaned.

Forcing himself up, he did just that.

* * *

_Question: How does Spunkmeyer deal with guilt (or the perception of guilt) compared to Drake or Wierzbowski?_


	6. Chapter 6

Spunkmeyer wasn't completely sure how much time had passed as he kept walking through the dense jungle. Was it hours? Or just minutes? Maybe he was somewhere time went to die.

_If we had those rescue coordinates, the USCM would've sent a team after us by now. _Spunkmeyer sighed. _It's not Ferro's fault the coordinates got wiped. Everyone makes mistakes. I can see how some people would get really pissed at her for this, though._

They were long past the time they were supposed to return to base. Surely, their squad was looking for them. _Once I find Ferro, we should immediately head south._

If he could find Ferro.

Ever since he had injured his ankle, Spunkmeyer had to stop more frequently. _If I made a better crutch, I wouldn't have to stop so much._

Sitting once more, Spunkmeyer gave a frustrated groan. He tipped his head back, yelling, "_Ferro! FERRO!_"

He got a brief echo, but no response. No human response, that is.

A second later, he heard a high-pitched howl. He turned to see something perched on a branch, several trees away. The gray Annexer.

Forcing himself up, Spunkmeyer pulled his gun from its holster. He limped along the forest floor, hoping and praying that animal didn't follow him.

But, it did. It noticed he was weak. It bounded through the trees until it was almost on top of him. Spunkmeyer pointed his weapon at it, firing several shots. The Annexer climbed higher up the tree, until it was out of sight.

Swallowing hard, Spunkmeyer felt tears start running down his face. _This is how I'm going to die, isn't it? Even if I survive an attack, whatever allergic reaction I suffer will probably slowly kill me. I have to kill it before it kills me._

* * *

Every time he stopped, Spunkmeyer wondered if it was worth it to go on. His thoughts wandered in horrible directions. He put his head in his hands. "I killed her," he moaned. "I didn't tell her to eject."

What would he do if he was the only survivor here? He didn't think he could go on without Ferro. How was he supposed to tell the others what happened? He couldn't imagine the look on Drake's face-

"_Spunkmeyer! Spunkmeyer!_"

Joy flooded Spunkmeyer's chest. Ignoring the pain in his leg, he grabbed his makeshift crutch and started limp-running in the direction of that sweet, familiar voice. "Ferro!"

"Spunkmeyer! I hear you, but I can't see you!"

"Stay where you are! I'm coming! Don't move!" Spunkmeyer shoved aside a bush with his crutch. He spotted someone standing next to the tall, thick trunk of a tree, and he tossed away the stick to run up and hug her tightly. "You're alive," he breathed. He kissed her forehead. "Dammit, I thought I didn't tell you to eject and you . . . I-"

"I heard you. I ejected. Not so hard, sweetie, I hurt my arm-"

"What kind of hurt?"

"Deep gash from landing on something. I bandaged it. Don't panic." Ferro looked down at the swelling in Spunkmeyer's right boot. "I see you hurt yourself, too."

"I'll be fine." Spunkmeyer tried to swallow past his tears. "I thought I lost you."

"I thought I lost you, too." Ferro buried her face in Spunkmeyer's jacket, squeezing him.

Standing on his right leg hurt, but Spunkmeyer wanted to hold Ferro for as long as he could. He rubbed her back, and rested his head on top of hers. "I love you," he whispered, tears dripping down his face. "I love you so much." He sniffed, resisting the urge to sob, though he did anyway.

"I love you, too."

There was silence for a few minutes, until Spunkmeyer said, "I didn't know what I was gonna do without you."

"I was thinking the same thing. I mean, you can't have landed that far away. I thought you'd . . . find me sooner."

"I got knocked out when my chute got caught in a tree branch. I don't know how long I was out, but the first thing I did was set out to find out. 'Course hurting my ankle slowed me down a bit. That, and I fell asleep. I didn't once turn back, I swear."

"I believe you. I was worried, that's all."

"And I was worried about you. I didn't think you got out."

Ferro let go of Spunkmeyer. "Well, it's a good thing I ejected when I did. Lemme show you something." She walked Spunkmeyer through the jungle until they came to the wreckage of the dropship. A large tree branch had been torn down, and had smashed through the cockpit windshield. "That wouldn't have ended well."

Spunkmeyer felt nauseated. "No, it wouldn't."

"The good news is that we have supplies to survive a little while."

"That's a relief. Look, considering we have no hope of rescue, I think we should just grab what we can and start heading south."

"You think we should _walk_ all the way back to Rio?"

"What choice do we have?"

Ferro sighed. "Alright, you got a point. This is my fault anyway."

"No, it's not your fault."

"I'm the one who wiped the coordinates!"

"On accident!" Spunkmeyer stepped through a hole on the side of the dropship to get to their supplies.

Ferro fell silent.

"The coordinates were an easy fix. You're not the one who got us shot down. You won't get punished." Spunkmeyer picked up a small package, tearing it open with his knife. "Any of the backpacks make it?"

"Yeah. Two. I'm wearing one of them. It's got a hole in it, but it's OK." Ferro looked at Spunkmeyer, sighing.

"Put half these MREs in your bag, I'll carry the other half. What about the water filters?"

"I have those."

"Good." Spunkmeyer closed up his backpack. "Got your gun?"

"Yeah."

"Well, if you see any Annexers, don't hesitate to shoot it. We have no medical equipment and God only knows what kind of reaction I'd have if one attacks me."

"Spunkmeyer, there are no Annexers here."

"There's one. It's been following me for some reason. I don't know where it came from, or how it got here, but I want to take care of it before it gets to me."

"OK." Ferro shrugged. "Sit. I'll look at your ankle."

Spunkmeyer resisted the urge to scream in pain as Ferro pulled his boot off. "Do you even know what to do?"

"Not really, but we can't let this go. I'll tape it as best I can." She set his boot aside, gently taking his ankle.

Spunkmeyer grimaced.

"Wow, that's swollen. Yeah, we can't let this go."

"Why not?"

"Because it could become permanently damaged. They could kick you out of the Marines if you can't recover from an injury like this."

Spunkmeyer sighed. "Alright. Do what you can do."

Ferro took a roll of tape and gauze from a first-aid kit. After wrapping Spunkmeyer's ankle, she handed him one of the cold water bottles. "Hold this on your ankle. It should help the swelling go down."

"Could I have one to drink, too?"

Ferro nodded, smiling at him a little.

Like with the coconut earlier, Spunkmeyer drank as much as he could out of the water bottle. He then set the bottle down, a refreshing coolness spreading throughout his body. He felt like he regained some energy.

He also started to feel better after holding the cold water bottle against his ankle for some time, but he knew they couldn't stay there for long.

Ferro put together a better crutch from two sturdier sticks tied with paracord. "Not the best, but it's all we have, especially since we're going to hike probably a thousand miles."

Spunkmeyer gave a weak smirk. "It'll be a good workout."

* * *

After gathering up what they could, Spunkmeyer and Ferro started heading south, though Ferro corrected it to southeast. "If we reach the coast," she said, "we can keep following it until we reach a major city."

"Whatever you say, dear," Spunkmeyer replied.

Ferro looked over her shoulder to give Spunkmeyer a dirty look.

He grinned at her. "Hey, I do trust your judgement."

"Good. I actually paid attention in our survival lesson. If you find water, you can follow it to civilization."

"I paid attention, too, you know. I'm just kidding around, you know that."

Ferro smirked. "I know you are."

The conversation stopped there. Neither of them said anything until over an hour later, when Spunkmeyer griped, "I'm hungry."

"How hungry?" Ferro asked, glancing over her shoulder at him.

"My stomach is threatening to gnaw through my skin."

Sitting on a mossy tree stump, Ferro took an MRE package out of her backpack, tossing it to Spunkmeyer. "I know we both miss Hudson, but don't act like him when we're out here."

"Unlike him, I'm actually hungry, not bored," Spunkmeyer replied. "All I've had over the last twenty-four hours was a coconut." He rummaged through the contents of the package, pulling out a small bag of salted almonds.

"It does feel weird saying that we miss Hudson."

Spunkmeyer nodded. "Yeah, it does. It's true, though. He's kind of a pain, but he's not a bad guy."

Ferro drew her legs up, resting her head on her knees. "I do miss Drake. I wish he was here, to be honest."

"Why?"

Ferro was quiet for a moment, and then she shrugged. "I don't know."

"You appreciate his company more often than not?"

She nodded.

"OK. I understand."

Ferro tilted her head a little. "Really? You're not . . . pissed about it?"

"No. No reason to be. Drake's your friend. He's . . . the person you go to when you need advice with me, and . . . I guess that's probably healthier for our relationship, you know, having a third party to go to when . . . we're having an argument and need a little bit of time away from each other. I mean, I don't anticipate us having a lot of arguments, but it could happen. Happens in every relationship."

Ferro's expression didn't change. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah. I dunno. I've been alone for a long time and got to think for awhile. That, and . . . I really hope we don't start fighting when, right now, all we have is each other."

"I don't think we will," Ferro sighed. "Especially since we both thought we lost each other for almost a day."

"Well, now that we know we're both alive, and mostly OK-" Spunkmeyer grinned, looking down at his still-swollen ankle, "we don't have to be so anxious anymore."

"I have a right to be worried about your ankle."

"I love it when you worry. You seem so level-headed most of the time, then I get hurt and suddenly you do a one-eighty and panic."

"I'm not panicking."

Spunkmeyer laughed. "Come on, it's just us! You can admit it."

A sly smirk crossed Ferro's face. "Alright. If I make a confession, then you have to make a confession. It's just us. No one's going to know except me and you."

"Deal."

Ferro took a sip of water. "I admit that I become less level-headed when something is wrong with you."

"I admit that . . . I don't shave often because I like hearing you tell me I'm scruffy."

"I actually like Chicago-style pizza."

Spunkmeyer snorted. "Don't ever say that when I take you to Manhattan. Don't ever say that out loud. You'll suddenly find yourself in the middle of a brawl. Alright, another confession . . . ah . . . OK, I got one. When . . . you were interested in Drake, I . . . had feelings for you, and I'd have dreams where I'd run into you and Drake kissing in the armory or a locker room or something."

"I actually did have some very . . . sensual dreams about Drake. Later on, I started having dirty dreams about you, and I figured that meant I had feelings for you."

"Didn't you always have feelings for me?"

"Sort of. I guess it wasn't until you kissed me in the simulator when I knew I really liked you. Not just as a friend, but as something a little more."

"And yet you didn't want to go through with it."

"Back then, yeah. Now? I'm happy. That's the important thing."

"Yeah, you got a point." Spunkmeyer opened the entrée portion of his rations. "Right, I got one more confession to make."

"What?"

"I love you."

Ferro laughed. "That's not a confession! I already knew that!"

"I needed to say it again." Spunkmeyer winked at her. "I haven't seen you in over a day. I missed out on a lot of 'I love yous.'"

"You're so cute, Spunkmeyer."

* * *

They had to stop again another hour or so later to let Spunkmeyer rest his ankle and put the icy water bottle on it. Ferro took the opportunity to open a ration pack of her own, picking out what she wanted while staring into the green and brown of the jungle around them.

Spunkmeyer glanced at her. "Whatcha looking at?"

"Nothing," Ferro replied. She looked back at him. "How are you doing?"

"Sore. Sweaty." Spunkmeyer lifted his arm. "I don't think I smell too good."

"No, you really don't. I don't, either."

"You dirty girl," Spunkmeyer purred.

Ferro bit her lip, struggling to come up with a response and not laugh at the same time. "Really?"

Spunkmeyer grinned.

"You know, maybe Dietrich is right; you are a bit of a pervert."

"Me? No." Spunkmeyer laughed.

"Oh? Did I not say you were a little rough our first night together?"

"You did, but that has nothing to do with-"

"You were having a lot of fun. Maybe a little too much fun."

"How could I not? That was one of the best nights of my life."

Ferro shook her head. "Your mind can be filthier than Hudson's sometimes."

"Hey, I've been out in the jungle for almost two days and haven't showered. Of course I'm dirty."

Looking down, Ferro tried to hide her laugh.

"That was an awful joke, and you laughed anyway."

"I'm sorry! Anything helps right now."

"OK." Spunkmeyer got up to sit next to Ferro. "You wanna laugh at things that are just plain bad. How 'bout pickup lines? Very bad pickup lines." He put his arms around her neck to kiss her cheek, purring and nuzzling her. "I know this is gonna be awful because I was scared shitless over the fear that I lost you . . . but did it hurt when yous fell from heaven?"

Ferro looked at him. "That is awful. And, yes, it did hurt."

"Aww." Spunkmeyer hugged her, and caressed her head.

"Can you stop so I can finish eating and then we can get going?"

"No. I must make up for twenty-four hours of missed kisses."

Sighing, Ferro patted Spunkmeyer's head as he kissed her multiple times. "Alright, sweetie-" she put her hand on Spunkmeyer's lips, "we had our fun. Let's finish icing your ankle, and then keep walking, OK?"

A large gray shape suddenly dropped down from a tree above them. Rearing on its hind legs, the Annexer took a swipe at Ferro, who pushed it away with her boot before drawing her pistol. Hissing, the animal lunged, knocking her to the ground with its claws close to her neck.

"Don't move!" Spunkmeyer yelled.

The Annexer turned to Spunkmeyer, who fired a single shot into its helmet. The bullet had gone clean through, and there wasn't even a dying screech from the animal as it collapsed from Ferro. It twitched a few times, before falling still. Blood leaked from the wound in its head, staining the grass and dirt red.

Lowering his weapon, Spunkmeyer looked at Ferro. "You OK?"

"Yeah." Ferro sat up, shaking a little. "Little bit bruised. They're strong little guys, aren't they?" She looked at the carcass. "What's that?"

"What's what?"

"Around its neck." Ferro knelt by the body, unhooking a black collar from it. She then put her fingers to her lips, looking at Spunkmeyer. "It's a tracking device," she whispered. She pulled the recorder from the collar, then set it on the stump she had been sitting on before taking a heavy stick and crushing it. She then swept the pieces into her hands, and threw them off the side of the cliff.

"So this was somebody's bloodhound," Spunkmeyer muttered. He kept his distance from the Annexer's carcass.

"Yeah. Somebody's bloodhound to find us," Ferro said. "And it wouldn't surprise me if there're more out there."

Spunkmeyer shrugged. "I hope not. What makes you think it's after us specifically?"

"It's been following you, it attacked me, and there's an audio-recording tracking device around its neck. Something's wrong here. Whoever shot us down knows we both survived, and they want us taken care of before we can get back to our unit."

"Ah. Lovely thought, sweetheart."

"I'm not kidding around, Spunkmeyer!"

"I know, I know. Look, you trashed the evidence. Why don't yous toss the body with it so they get confused when they get to this guy's last known location?"

Without much hesitation, Ferro dragged the Annexer's carcass to the edge of the cliff, and pushed it over. They both watched it disappear into the foliage below.

"Should make finding us a pain, I hope," Spunkmeyer said. "Guess all we can do is hope they didn't hear where we're going."

"You're right. That's all we can do."

* * *

"This looks like a good spot to rest for the night."

Ferro gave Spunkmeyer a dirty look. "Who said anything about stopping for the whole night?"

"Uh, me. I'm exhausted. I need to find someplace to . . . do my business, and I think you need to rest, too. This little cave seems like an OK spot."

Sighing, Ferro clicked on a small flashlight, peering around the inside of the cave. "Alright. You, go do your business. I'll start a fire."

Nodding, Spunkmeyer limped out of the cave, finding a small, sheltered spot under a thick tree branch. This was only slightly less humiliating than using the restroom at the command of his drill instructors in boot camp. At least out here, he was going on his own terms, and he wasn't being watched.

After finishing up, Spunkmeyer headed back into the cave, finding Ferro lighting some dry sticks. He carefully lowered himself to sit, taking a water bottle to press it against his ankle. "You doing OK?"

Ferro glanced up at him, flames dancing in her eyes. "Yeah. Just . . . tired. Homesick."

"Homesick as in for base, or your actual home?"

"Both."

"Ah. OK." Spunkmeyer was quiet for a moment. "You need a hug?"

"Not now."

"Kiss?"

"No."

"Fine." Spunkmeyer pulled a ration pack from his bag. "You know, if you wanna talk, I'm here to listen."

A small grin appeared on Ferro's face.

"What?"

"The way you say 'talk.' And 'coffee.'"

Spunkmeyer smirked. "I remember the day we went out and you said something along the lines of, 'You know, you're nothing like how New Yorkers are in the movies.'"

"I kinda thought you were all rude and everything was go-go-go for you."

Spunkmeyer shook his head. "Nah. Trust me, there are a lot of people I've met who fit that." He sighed. "I've also met people who moved away from New York and tell me they don't plan on going back. They didn't enjoy it. They want quiet and couldn't take the noise. They look at me like I'm nuts when I say that I want to go back. That's usually when I tell them how . . . I was alone most of my life, and the only thing I really had to identify with was the city itself. It was all I had in terms of a home. It will always be home. I mean, I will admit, for the first couple months of being a Marine, I didn't think I'd ever go home or miss it or whatnot, but I realized I missed it. I still do. When we were stationed in New York that December, all I was worried about was running into Kendriss again, because of how fresh that was in my mind. When we left, I decided that when my contract is up, I'm going back. Back to New York, not Kendriss."

"Well, before you say that you want to take me with you, I will say that I need some time to think about it." Ferro tossed a twig in the fire. "OK?"

Spunkmeyer nodded. "Got a few years anyway. I'm good with that."

Within the next hour, Ferro doused the fire before going to sleep for the night, not wanting anyone or anything to see them. "It'll get real cold in here," she whispered.

Spunkmeyer was already under a tarp on the ground. He lifted his arm, saying, "Then come snuggle with me."

Ferro lay down next to him, getting as close as she could against his body. Spunkmeyer hugged her tightly, and kissed her forehead.

"You do stink," he whispered.

"You stink, too," Ferro replied.

"I'll bet Drake is really enjoying the miraculous hot water we have on base."

"And he's probably being an ass about it so Wierzbowski has to put ice down his back again."

Spunkmeyer laughed. "You shoulda heard him scream. 'Who did that? That wasn't funny!'" He rested his head on top of Ferro's, hoping for a restful sleep.

* * *

_Question: How do you think this situation would be different if Drake was present?_


	7. Chapter 7

The sound of rain above them gradually woke up Spunkmeyer. He looked out of the mouth of the cave, seeing a heavy rain pelting the outside. _I guess we're stuck here till it stops._ Adjusting himself, Spunkmeyer pulled a still-sleeping Ferro closer to him, resting his head on top of hers as he resumed their snuggle.

He closed his eyes, then felt someone wrap their arms around his neck and kiss the side of his jaw. "Good morning," Ferro whispered.

"Good morning." Spunkmeyer grinned, and kissed Ferro on the lips. "Looks like we're staying inside today."

Ferro glanced outside. "Rain isn't going to kill us."

"Our supplies could get ruined."

Ferro sighed. "Fine." She returned her gaze to Spunkmeyer, smiling at him a little. "Hi."

"Hi. How'd you sleep?"

"Could've been better. You?"

"It was alright." Spunkmeyer nuzzled Ferro's cheek. "It was better that I had you with me."

They spent several minutes laying in silence before sitting up. Ferro stood to peer outside. "Knowing this terrain, it could rain for days, maybe weeks."

"Also depends on the time of year. This is the end of winter, right?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"Sweetie, it's called a _rain_ forest for a reason."

"I know." Spunkmeyer yawned. "You know, I'll bet we can find some coffee beans and brew our own."

Ferro turned to face him. "I was about to say, 'you're crazy,' but . . . you're actually not. Then again, how would you know a coffee bean plant when you saw it?"

"Good question." Spunkmeyer pulled a ration pack out of his bag. "We're stuck with this crap for now."

"'This crap' is keeping you alive. You're cranky enough sometimes; I don't want to deal with you when you're starving."

"No, you know who's crankier than all hell when he's hungry? Drake. I swear, he'll kick your nuts into next week if you just look at him wrong when his stomach is empty."

"I'll take that over Hudson's whining."

"You can't say that. Drake is sweet to you no matter what mood he's in."

Ferro smiled, somewhat sadly. "I really miss him."

"I'll bet he misses you, too." Spunkmeyer sighed. "Who am I kidding? I miss everyone."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they're looking for us right now. I definitely hope they are." Ferro sat next to Spunkmeyer. "Maybe we can wrap our bags in the tarps. That should protect our stuff, right?"

"Could fashion them into a hood and bag-cover, yeah. Too bad the ponchos were burned up in the crash." Spunkmeyer leaned over to grab the tarps from the ground.

"Wait."

"Wait what?"

"Shh! I hear something!"

Spunkmeyer paused. A second later, he heard voices, and boots above them, along with the scraping of Annexer claws against rock. "Ferro, start moving toward the back of the cave," he whispered.

"We don't know what's-"

"Just do it!" Spunkmeyer pulled his gun from its holster. "Go!"

They moved further back into the dark. As light continued to fade, Ferro took a flashlight out of her pack. "How are we supposed to find our way out of here? What if they block us off or hope to starve us out?"

"We're either going to find another way out, or fight our way out," Spunkmeyer replied. "That's the plan."

"You're just full of good ideas."

Spunkmeyer looked over his shoulder to grin at her. "I sure am."

* * *

They could no longer hear voices as they continued through the winding passages of the cave. There was no light other than Ferro's flashlight, and neither of them were certain how much time had gone by.

"If we feel a draft, it means we should be close to an exit of some kind," Spunkmeyer said.

"I'm getting nothing," Ferro replied. "Maybe we should go back the way we came."

"What if there's-"

"Do you want to be stuck down here for the rest of your life?"

Spunkmeyer sighed. "Fine. You win."

Turning back, the two headed up, hoping that whoever came closer to their camp had left. As they came closer to the light, they saw three tall shadows, and two leashed Annexers with them. One of the Annexers lifted its head, and screeched when it caught Ferro and Spunkmeyer's scent.

Hollering in Portuguese, one of the shadowed figures raised a submachine gun, firing in Spunkmeyer's direction. Ducking behind a rock, Spunkmeyer was temporarily deafened by the banging of the gun echoing throughout the cave.

Ferro fired several shots at an Annexer charging at them. The animal fell inches from her, and she trained her weapon at the men shooting at them. Spunkmeyer appeared over the rock he was using for cover, assisting Ferro.

Ferro ducked to reload. When she reappeared, her first shot struck a man in the chest. He dropped his weapon, collapsing with blood pouring from the fresh wound and screaming.

Spunkmeyer had to adjust his stance when his right ankle started to hurt again, and took the opportunity to reload his pistol. The echoing _bangs_ of everyone's weapons continued to make his head pound, but he maintained focus. The second Annexer went down, allowing Spunkmeyer to breathe a brief sigh of relief.

As the second hostile tried to duck to reload, Spunkmeyer refused to let him hide. He shot the man in the shoulder, then the neck. The ground was covered in a shallow pool of blood.

There was one hostile left. Ferro shot him in the right side of his chest. He went down screaming, but not dead.

Without a second thought, Spunkmeyer finished him off. As the echoing died down, Spunkmeyer looked at Ferro, breathing heavily. "You OK?" he asked.

Ferro's hands were shaking as she put her gun back in its holster. She was silent for a long minute.

"Ferro?"

More silence. "Spunkmeyer? What just happened?"

Spunkmeyer holstered his weapon as well. "Ah . . . I think we just beat the shit out of a bunch of enemy militants." He looked at the bodies on the ground. "They have no markings of the Brazilians. I think if they were Brazilian military, they wouldn't have opened fire on us once they saw we were USCM." He got a closer look, seeing no familiar insignias. "Yeah. This is a rebel group of some kind. Not a doubt in my mind the same people who shot us down." He glanced back at Ferro. "You sure you're OK?"

"Let's just go, Spunkmeyer. It stopped raining."

* * *

It had stopped raining, but the ground was muddy and slippery. Ferro held Spunkmeyer's arm so he didn't fall with his crutch. She was pale, and Spunkmeyer took notice. "Hey, talk to me, Ferro. You've been really quiet since the fight in the cave."

"Can we sit?" Ferro asked.

"Yeah."

Once they sat, Ferro rubbed her face. "I've never done that before."

"Done what?"

"Been in a fight like that."

"Shook you up a little?"

Ferro nodded.

Spunkmeyer fell silent. He had never been in a gunfight, either, yet he wasn't as shaky as Ferro. "Well, it was either you or them at that point." He looked down at the ground, then back over at Ferro. "That's how I looked at it."

"You have a point," Ferro sighed. "I guess that's because you were involved, and . . . I couldn't let anyone hurt you or get away with hurting you."

"There's nothing wrong with feeling guilty or in shock over the fact that you killed somebody. Some people can do it, and some people can't." Spunkmeyer paused to think. "I dunno. I guess it came easy to me because I have a lot of pent-up anger about my past. Probably not the best thing to say, but it's just you around."

"I don't think that's a feeling that'll ever go away for you."

Spunkmeyer nodded. "No, probably not." He fell silent again. "Doesn't make me a bad person, does it?"

"As long as you're not beating the crap out of everyone you come across, no, it doesn't make you a bad person."

A small grin came across Spunkmeyer's face. "I dunno. I get the feeling I act before I talk sometimes. Case in point, I flew at Wierzbowski over something stupid, and I shouldn't have."

"I think the fact that you recognize it is important. Next step is learning from it."

"What is there to learn, though? I know perfectly well that . . . I get easily angered over things beyond my control." Spunkmeyer sighed. "I actually suppressed it for a long time. I think what happened was I had gotten upset over something at school, when I was little, and . . . Kendriss didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to deal with any of my emotions, whether it be happiness or sadness or anger or . . . anything. It was awful, and yet I accepted it. I kept everything inside, and I had no one to talk to about it. To this day, I still have moments where it's almost instinctual to keep things bottled up. God, can you imagine how bad I'd be at dating in high school? I'd be getting my heart broken left and right and people would saying things about how I'm . . . unstable or something. And it'd be true."

"Unstable would mean there's something wrong with you, and there's not. You're capable of learning. It'd take time, but it's not impossible."

Spunkmeyer nodded again. "I was able to take out some of my emotions when I started playing baseball. It did change a lot in my life, in a good way. I could forget about things, temporarily. I felt like I was needed, appreciated."

"It gave you a healthy outlet."

"Yeah, even though . . . it didn't help with the root of my problems. I was less flustered at the end of the day. Best of all, I didn't have to go home after school. I guess the worst part was that I felt like I had no home. I fell behind on assignments because I was more focused on making sure someone from the team would let me stay the night. I did feel kinda guilty about it, after awhile. Eventually, I . . . I took to spending nights just wandering Manhattan, which, as you might be thinking, is dangerous at night in certain areas. I knew where to go and where to stay away from after a certain hour." Spunkmeyer sighed as he tug back into his memories. "I guess you can say I wasn't among the best and brightest. People told me that if I went to college, I could get away. Work harder, get your grades back up, and universities will look at you. I asked how the fuck I'm gonna pay for it. They told me to get better at baseball and get a scholarship. Still, I was . . . stuck." Spunkmeyer looked at the ground.

"Running away felt like your only option."

"Yeah. Kendriss didn't want to put me in the foster system. Why? I don't know. I mean, I was about fifteen when someone mentioned it, and I guess . . . it'd be too late by the time I find someone to take me in."

Ferro took a moment to think. "Now that I think about it, if you didn't enlist when you did, we would never have met."

"Maybe we would, maybe we wouldn't have." Spunkmeyer glanced at her. "We can also attribute it to you being held back in training. If . . . you were where you were supposed to be, we wouldn't have gotten the chance to get close."

Ferro nodded. "You know I believe everything happens for a reason, right?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe . . . I was always meant to be held back. Maybe you were meant to enlist underage. All so we could . . . meet and be together . . . have a future together."

"So do you think there's a reason we were shot down?"

Ferro shrugged. "I think I'll figure that out when we get out of here."

"Maybe it's a chance for us to work on our relationship."

"What makes you think that?"

Spunkmeyer thought for a moment. "Something Drake's therapist told me."

Ferro adjusted the way she was sitting. "Guess I'm not the only one who speaks to him who's not Drake."

"What?"

"I dunno. I . . . I knew Doctor Ranelli was open to all of us, but . . . for some reason I'd felt like I was the only person, who isn't Drake, who talked to him. Like everyone else feels like they don't need him."

"Maybe everyone really does go to him and just doesn't feel like talking to anyone about it because it's private."

"Yeah."

"Well, I did talk to him after my fight with Drake and Wierzbowski, and he told me that . . . maybe I'm focusing a little too much on the physical aspect of our relationship. I told him I had gotten upset over the fact that we weren't gonna be able to sleep with each other for a few months, and he, like Drake, had told me that I should see this as an opportunity to develop the other aspects of our relationship."

"Have you ever told him about your anger?"

"No. Should I?"

"If you want. I think he could help you."

"What do you talk to him about?"

"Whatever's bothering me at the time."

Spunkmeyer fell silent, and gestured to himself. "Me?"

"Surprisingly, not that often. No, mostly it's . . . little things regarding home. About two-three weeks ago, I found out that my parents had taken money out of my account to wire to my brother. I argued with myself whether or not I should be mad. On one hand, he needs a little bit of help and he is working hard to be independent. On the other, I didn't give my permission for anyone to dip into my personal account, and . . . I guess I'm worried about being taken advantage of. I know it's not malicious, but . . . why me? I talked to Ranelli about that and he said it'd be better and more mentally healthy for me to say something. I'm not a doormat to anyone, including my family."

"I guess that begs the question of why they didn't use their own savings instead."

"It was because I've never really helped anyone out before, and I should pitch in more."

"Doesn't make it right. How'd they get in your account, anyway?"

"They have my information."

Spunkmeyer snorted. "Hey, look, if-and I know it's a huge 'if' right now-we ever get married and combine our accounts, _do not_ give our information to anyone. I don't care if you have your own separate account and you do what you want with it, but I don't want anybody touching my money. After Wierzbowski's story and after all I went through, I want to be the boss of my own money."

"I would never do that without your permission."

"How come you didn't tell me about this?"

"I had a feeling you'd say something along the lines of, 'You shouldn't be trusting anyone with such information,' and . . . I wouldn't find that helpful."

"Well, you're right, I probably would do that."

"I just needed actual advice from someone, that's all."

"How come you didn't talk to Drake?"

"Drake is really touchy when it comes to talking about family. Unless it's about what him and Vasquez have planned for when they leave the Marines. I already knew what he would say before I even thought about talking to him about it."

"Alright, you got a point, there." Spunkmeyer grinned a little. He looked around, letting out a sigh. "Should we keep walking, or do you wanna sit and talk more?"

"I want to keep going," Ferro said. "The more we walk per day, the closer we get to base."

* * *

They were still walking when it got dark. Ferro walked ahead with the flashlight, warning Spunkmeyer if there was anything he could catch his crutch on.

Abruptly, Ferro stopped. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Spunkmeyer said.

"That sound. It was like a growling sound."

"Probably my stomach."

"No! It sounded like an animal-" Ferro let out a scream when an Annexer leapt out of the pitch blackness of the jungle. Gunshots rang out behind them.

Spunkmeyer fired back in the direction the bullets were coming. He turned to try and run, despite knowing he would be slowed down by his ankle.

Ferro shoved the Annexer off of her, fumbling with her pistol before shooting the animal in the chest. Blood was running from fresh scratches on her cheek.

"Just run! Don't waste the ammo 'cause we can't see them!" Spunkmeyer hissed.

Ferro turned to shoot back anyway, trying to run and fire at the same time.

"_Ferro, look where you're going!_"

She stepped back with her left foot, and didn't feel solid ground. Screaming, she fell backward, grabbing Spunkmeyer's arm before she could fall in the river below. Spunkmeyer flopped down on his belly, holding Ferro's arm as tight as he could. He could hear the barking and screeching of Annexers, and the shouts of the hostile soldiers after them. Bullets flew by them, and Spunkmeyer began pushing himself off the cliff.

"_What are you doing?!_" Ferro shouted.

She didn't get an answer. They plummeted down, splashing into the river and realizing they were being swept toward a waterfall. "_Spunkmeyer!_" Ferro yelled. She frantically searched for something to grab onto, panicked that she had let go of Spunkmeyer.

She felt someone wrap their arms around her. "We'll be fine!" Spunkmeyer gasped.

Ferro's screams echoed into the night air as the two fell over the waterfall. They were stifled when they were forced underwater. Again, she lost Spunkmeyer.

Above them, the wide leaves of the tropical trees shielded them from the sight of hostiles on the cliff they dropped from. The water had calmed somewhat. Spunkmeyer hauled himself onto the bank of the river, coughing and spitting. His flightsuit was heavy with water and clung to his skin. He sat, trying to regain his breath.

Scrambling up the bank, Ferro threw her arms around Spunkmeyer. She gasped for breath while burying her face in Spunkmeyer's chest, tightening her grip on him.

Spunkmeyer put his arms around her. "You OK?" he breathed.

Ferro looked up at him. Blood and water was running all over her face. "Yeah."

Pulling them further up the bank, Spunkmeyer threw off his wet pack, and rummaged around for a first-aid kit. "You taped my ankle," he said. "I should return the favor."

Ferro didn't say anything as Spunkmeyer cleaned the scratches on her face. Occasionally, he'd stop to dry her tears.

"Don't cry too much. You'll ruin the bandage," Spunkmeyer whispered. "I'm here. You won't lose me, I promise."

It didn't stop her from crying. Spunkmeyer gave her a sympathetic look. He kept drying her face, then kissed her.

"You sure you're OK?" he asked.

She nodded.

After applying a small strip of gauze and tape to Ferro's cheek, Spunkmeyer tried to smile a little. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"The bandage, or falling down the waterfall?"

Spunkmeyer shrugged. "I guess both."

"I don't want to do that ever again. Fall, I mean."

"Then let's pick up and get moving." Spunkmeyer helped Ferro stand. "We'll dry off. Eventually. I just hope we lost those guys for good."

* * *

_Question: If you were a Marine lost in the jungle, which of the squad would you want as your partner and why?_


	8. Chapter 8

Their clothes remained heavy with water as they continued to trudge through the jungle. The humid environment slowed the drying of their clothes, and neither of them felt remotely comfortable until later that night.

Spunkmeyer didn't say anything to Ferro when exhaustion caught up with him; he simply collapsed, and groaned. "I'm done for the night."

Ferro turned around to see Spunkmeyer sitting on the ground. Sighing, she sat with him. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah. Just tired." Spunkmeyer groaned again.

Ferro pulled a water bottle from her pack, but Spunkmeyer waved it away.

"No, no . . . I want heat. I'm freezing, and the bandage is loose from the water."

They huddled together after a fire was made and Ferro changed Spunkmeyer's bandage. Neither of them said a word, as they focused on trying to keep themselves warm. Spunkmeyer held Ferro as close as he could, and he could feel her shivering. He also felt raindrops start falling on their heads.

As the fire began to flicker out, Spunkmeyer pulled one of the tarps around them, covering them as best he could. There was more silence for some time, and then Ferro whispered, "You still think we'll get out of this?"

Spunkmeyer nodded. "As long as we stick together, we'll get out of here. We'll make it home."

"How long have we been out here?"

"Two days, I think."

Ferro fell silent again. "The others should've found us by now."

"They might have no choice but to fight some of those insurgents to get to us."

"It shouldn't be taking that long."

"They don't have air power anymore. Or they're trying to borrow somebody else's pilots and dropship."

Ferro sighed. "I hope so."

"Trust me, I'm hoping as hard as I can along with you."

* * *

Dawn broke, ending the rain for the time being. Spunkmeyer and Ferro were still wet and cold. They put their supplies together without saying anything, and continued hiking south.

A heavy feeling crept over Spunkmeyer's heart. A feeling of hopelessness. He shook his head. _I have to stay strong. I have to be strong for Ferro._

Minutes and hours seemed to lengthen. Time seemed nonexistent. Everywhere they turned, the landscape hadn't changed much. Everything was still green and brown, save for the occasional brightly colored flower. The only good thing was that they didn't hear or see any hostile soldiers or Annexers.

Their enemy was now themselves.

"You're positive this is south and we're not going in circles?" Ferro asked, breaking the silence.

"I'm positive this is south," Spunkmeyer replied. "The compass still works."

"How many miles do you think we've walked?"

"How should I know? I'm not keeping track. Just relax, OK?"

"I can't relax. We're never getting out of here!"

"Ferro-"

"We're going to _die_ here!"

Spunkmeyer paused, holding his hands out. "Alright, honey . . . take a deep breath. Stop. Just stop, and think, and relax." He could see Ferro was starting to break down. He couldn't blame her. He understood how she felt. "Sit for a minute."

They both sat down, and Ferro started crying. Spunkmeyer moved next to her. "Hey. Tell me what's going on," he whispered.

"You know what's going on!"

"OK, OK." Spunkmeyer hugged her. "It'll be OK, I promise. Like I said last night, we're in this together."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. When Ferro finished her cry, she looked at Spunkmeyer, every emotion flashing across her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what? I know how you're feeling. I'm not . . . upset you're feeling this way. I get it. I know this seems like a hopeless situation, but we're going to get out of this, one way or another."

Ferro nodded. "OK. Let's . . . keep going."

Spunkmeyer kissed her. "Every step we take gets us closer to home."

* * *

The sky was gray for the whole day, but the two were grateful it wasn't raining. When they sat down around noon to eat, Spunkmeyer tried to get them both thinking about something else.

"You know, I don't think you've ever told me about the rabbit's foot on your holster," he said, opening his ration pack.

"What is there to tell?" Ferro asked. "It's a good-luck symbol."

"Yeah, but . . . I dunno. I didn't know if there was a story behind it or something."

Ferro was quiet for a moment. "It was my dad's. Gave it to me when I was shipped out." She shrugged. "That's pretty much it."

"Do you believe it's brought you luck?"

"Given that we're stranded in the rain forest, I don't think so."

Spunkmeyer grinned a little. "Or maybe it just needs a little time to work its magic. You never know."

Ferro gave him a quizzical look. "Are you superstitious?"

"Me? A little. Probably came from playing baseball. It's almost a tradition to have superstitions in baseball."

"Is that something you wanna continue when you leave the Marines?"

"In the beginning, yeah, but . . . I think it was Hudson who made me think about how difficult it would be for me to get the chance to play professionally. Even in the minors, I don't think I'd get the chance if I ain't in school or something." Spunkmeyer looked at the ground, sighing. "I don't need college. I can fly a dropship and operate a powerloader. If I went to college, they'd just be telling me things I already know. It'd be a waste of time." He took a sip of water. "It's not like the movies where you somehow show the coach you're so good that he lets you on the team, even though you're not a college student. If anything, I'm an average player. Easily replaceable with somebody better."

"Can you become a coach?"

"Probably not. I haven't played anything past junior varsity in high school. I'll still go to Yankees games as often as I can. That's all I'll ever be able to do. I dunno. I sacrificed baseball to escape my life. I know history has shown that . . . for some, baseball was that escape. For me, it wasn't. The stars just didn't align that way. I will never be in the Hall of Fame."

"Is that something you still want?"

"I guess . . . not as bad as a few years ago. I think when I found my other passion in flying and operating the loader, I figured it was worth it to keep my energy there." Spunkmeyer glanced at Ferro. "Didn't you think about maybe doing something else before you joined the Marines?"

"I would if there was more to do where I'm from."

Spunkmeyer smirked. "So you really are the small-town girl in this relationship."

"Yeah. And you are the city boy. Only difference is that you were born and raised in Manhattan, not Detroit."

"You know, we do have a midnight train in Manhattan. As much as I wouldn't advise going into Grand Central at night, maybe . . . once, you and I can just . . . go anywhere."

Ferro smiled. "I would like that."

"So do you feel . . . a little better now?"

She nodded. "I guess. Just . . . have to keep reminding myself that I have you, and we're going to get through this as long as we stick together."

"Yeah." Spunkmeyer touched Ferro's arm. "We can do this, OK?"

* * *

The clouds were beginning to thin a little as the day went on, but the sky was still covered in a pale-gray blanket.

Spunkmeyer glanced up when he saw a dark shape in the corner of his vision. "Ferro, look."

Looking up as well, Ferro watched the overhead plane for a few seconds before glancing back at Spunkmeyer. "What about it?"

"Gimme one of the flares."

"They were damaged in the waterfall. They're unusable."

Desperation coursed through Spunkmeyer's body. He dropped his crutch, getting on top of a nearby boulder and hollering, "_Hey! Help us! Down here!_" He waved his arms, and his heart was in his throat when he noticed the plan getting lower. He then stuck his thumb out like he was calling a taxi in New York, and continued shouting.

The plane circled the basin once, twice, and continued heading south. Spunkmeyer lowered his arm. "Shit."

"What made you think that was going to work?" Ferro asked.

"I dunno. He was flying low enough to where maybe he saw _something_." Spunkmeyer slid off the boulder.

"You do realize that someone else could've heard you, right? Someone we don't want following us."

"I think we'll be fine." Spunkmeyer sighed. "Just keep your eyes and ears open, and your finger on the trigger of your pistol."

"What are we going to do if we run out of ammunition?"

"Steal a submachine gun from one of the hostiles. If we can. It'd give us a better chance against them, to be honest."

Ferro shrugged. "You have a point."

A chill shot down Spunkmeyer's spine when a shrill howl broke the silence. Without a second thought, the two began jogging forward, though Spunkmeyer was slower.

Shadows began swiftly moving within the trees. Spunkmeyer pushed Ferro ahead. "Go! Keep going!"

Gray shapes leapt from the branches, followed by a burst of gunfire and shouting.

"I'm not leaving you!" Ferro grabbed Spunkmeyer's arm, pulling him along. She let out a scream when a figure tried to pull her into the forest by her neck.

Spunkmeyer jumped on top of the masked insurgent, rolling around with him in the dirt. There were confused statements from the man's comrades, followed by someone attempting to pull Spunkmeyer off.

The insurgent let out a horrific scream when Spunkmeyer bit down hard on his neck. Ferro took advantage of the confusion to shoot some of his comrades, and then ducked behind a tree to reload.

Spunkmeyer heard the click of a gun, and swiftly rolled himself and the soldier over, making it impossible for someone to shoot him without shooting their own comrade. He briefly locked eyes with the man, who was undoubtedly in shock, and Spunkmeyer promptly sank his teeth into his lower jaw. Blood was running onto Spunkmeyer's face as he began to tear the flesh away.

The soldier was able to get away, but only for a second. Spunkmeyer was on top of him again in a flash, and the insurgent shouted something that could be translated to, "_Get it off!_"

Ferro jogged over, and, in an attempt to help Spunkmeyer, tried to kick the insurgent. Instead, she accidentally kicked Spunkmeyer in his side, giving the man a chance to get up. Before he could train his gun on Spunkmeyer, Ferro sent a round into his skull.

"Dammit, Ferro!" Spunkmeyer grunted.

Ferro helped him stand. "We still have the animals to worry about!"

"Fuck this!"

As the Annexers prepared to charge them, Spunkmeyer raised his arms above his head, hollering and growling at them. They skidded to a halt, staring at him as their backs arched and their tails dropped to the ground. They glanced at each other, and turned to run.

"Are you nuts?" Ferro asked. "You couldn't just shoot the guy?"

"I could've shot you on accident!" Spunkmeyer picked up his crutch from the ground. "Besides, if we can scare the shit out of them, maybe they'll leave us alone."

"No. That means they might try something else. We don't know if they have their own aircraft. They might try to just burn everything down around us since they can't chase us on foot forever!"

"They also might not. Don't you think they would've tried that already instead of wasting their own resources chasing us through the jungle?"

Ferro sighed, and looked down. "Alright. Again, you have a point."

"Don't discredit yourself, my dear, you're full of good points, too." Spunkmeyer grinned.

Ferro gave him a look, her arms folded over her chest. "Is that another dirty joke?"

Spunkmeyer blushed. "Maybe."

"Hey, I knew that guy was going to be in pain when you bit him."

Spunkmeyer looked at her in mock disappointment. "OK, I know I'm rough, but I'm not trying to draw blood when I give you little love nibbles."

"'Love nibbles.'" Ferro bit her lip. "That's adorable."

"Why don't we make love right here in the jungle, and I'll show you I can be gentle."

"We haven't showered in three days and we have no protection. We are all levels of disgusting right now, so we are not making love out in the wilderness."

"Damn."

"Spunkmeyer! Alright . . . I promise we'll do it when we get home. I'm sure Drake will help us find a spot where we can be left alone for a few minutes."

"The fact that we might have to rely on Drake for something like this is really sad. Also, have you noticed that he does a lot of favors for us, but we haven't done any for him?"

"I've done favors for him."

"Like what? Have you been sleeping with him behind my back?"

"No." Ferro playfully shoved him. "You know that."

"I do know that," Spunkmeyer laughed. "I'm just messing with you."

* * *

The clouds continued to thin and break into uneven patches, allowing pink-orange light to spill through as the day wound down. As the orange sky gradually became darker, Ferro pointed toward something in the forest. "What's that?"

Spunkmeyer got next to her. "I . . . could be crazy, but it looks like a building."

They moved closer to see within the clearing, there was indeed a building. Several. All overgrown with vines. The paths leading to and from them were being reclaimed by nature as well.

"Looks like an abandoned research camp," Spunkmeyer said. "Doesn't look military."

"Maybe there's something here we can use to call for help," Ferro replied.

"Look around, then. I'll find a place for us to sleep."

The largest building was almost completely dark. Ferro turned on her flashlight while searching desks and drawers for anything that might prove useful, but nothing came up. She did find a radio in someone's office, and brought it to the sleeping quarters where Spunkmeyer was testing the mattress on one of the bunks.

"This is likely the exact same shit they gave us in boot camp, but, man, is it better than cave floors and logs," he said, bouncing a little. He looked up to see Ferro walking in, holding a radio. She sat down on the bunk across from him, and she looked almost completely broken.

"Hudson would know what to do with this." Tears ran down Ferro's face.

Spunkmeyer nodded a little. "I know." He sighed. "I miss him, too. Look, we're both exhausted. Let's worry about the radio in the morning."

"I shouldn't even be touching it. I'll probably ruin it like I did with the rescue coordinates."

Spunkmeyer sighed. "You gotta let that go. It's not your fault this happened."

Ferro set the radio on the floor before covering herself with a tarp on the bunk. She seemed to be asleep before her head touched the flat pillow.

Despite the bunks being small, Spunkmeyer crawled in with her. Instinctively, Ferro snuggled against him, burying her face in his chest. He put his arm over her, protectively, holding her close to him, then felt her put her arms around his waist. _Finding little things to make us happy is important right now. It'll keep us going. _Spunkmeyer kissed Ferro's forehead before resting his head on the pillow. It took some time, but he managed to fall asleep as well.

In the morning, Spunkmeyer attempted to tinker with the radio while Ferro searched the building for anything else useful. He limped down to the basement, seeing Ferro searching cabinets, and said, "The inside's rusted out."

"So we can't use it?" Ferro asked, not looking at him.

"If they got replacement parts, I can try to put it together."

"Alright, here's the big question; let's say we get an SOS message out. What if the wrong people pick up on it?"

"We run. Keep running south."

"What if the USCM gets it, comes looking for us, and find us gone?"

"They'll search the surrounding area."

"I hope so-Look, this drawer is full of crap you can use."

Spunkmeyer spent the next hour or so pulling apart the radio, tossing aside the rusted parts and fitting the new ones inside. He was no expert on this, and it was stressful, but he hoped his trials and errors would pay off.

The building was poorly ventilated, and it heated up fairly quickly as the sun rose higher in the cloudless sky. Spunkmeyer paused every so often to wipe the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his filthy flightsuit. He snapped the last piece of the radio in place, and let out his breath. _Let's see if you work._ He flipped it on, hearing static.

Static could mean anything. Spunkmeyer sighed. _Ferro's right; Hudson would have a better idea on what to do with this. _He played with the dials and buttons, slowly scrolling through the channels, not hearing anything other than static. _Well, I tried . . . I wasted a lot of time we could've spent walking. _Spunkmeyer set the radio aside, putting his head on his knees.

"Spunkmeyer?" Ferro walked over, kneeling next to him. "What's wrong?"

"Got nothing. I don't know why I thought I could do this. We could've been walking."

"Let's get going, then." Ferro helped him stand. "It'll be OK. Oh, by the way-" she handed him a proper crutch, "I found that in the medical wing of the building across from this one."

"Gee, thanks, honey."

* * *

"I was just thinking, if there's a research camp back there, we can't be too far from civilization," Spunkmeyer said.

"What gives you that idea? There are research camps in Antarctica, which is hundreds of miles from civilization. There are research camps in the Sahara, and Greenland, and on other _planets_." Ferro gave him a look.

"Did you see how ill-equipped it was? If it was truly remote, we would've found a lot more. I didn't see any industrial-scale generators or long-term food storage. And that radio was the only thing we could find for communication. We've got to be close to something if the camp was that flimsy."

"How do we know the nearest city isn't controlled by the people who shot us down?"

"We don't, I guess. We'll figure it out when we get there. If it's not, we're fine. We'll find someone who can help us. If it is controlled by these guys, we run. Not that hard."

Ferro sighed. "You're in charge, Spunkmeyer."

"You outrank me. You should be in charge."

"You're the one with the good ideas."

"And you still outrank me. I need your approval before we put any of my ideas in motion."

"Fine! I approve of all your ideas from the last three days, and any ideas you have in the future-that don't include sex. I saw that look."

Spunkmeyer covered his grin with his hand.

"You are disgusting sometimes."

"I haven't bathed in three days. Of course I'm disgusting."

* * *

_Question: How are Spunkmeyer and Ferro dealing with their situation better or worse than how Hudson dealt with his situation in "Dead Air?"_


	9. Chapter 9

Two more uneventful days had passed. Spunkmeyer was starting to think they had finally cleared enemy territory if they had gone this long without any confrontations. It actually made him somewhat hopeful.

Somewhat.

He was starting to lose more hope than he gained. Much like his weight. If he survived this, maybe the others wouldn't give him so much crap about how he didn't do anything in the gym. He knew his body was using the calories, and sapping as much as it could to try and heal his ankle. He was worried about it healing the wrong way. He was worried about it becoming a problem down the line, maybe even to the point where the Marines would have to discharge him.

On one hand, Spunkmeyer wouldn't mind being sent home to New York. He would struggle a bit, but he'd be able to make a life for himself. On the other hand, he didn't want to leave Ferro. She was the only thing keeping him from ever wanting to quit. He was afraid of losing her, physically and emotionally. What if they grew apart because of the distance and limited contact? He couldn't deal with that.

Then again, that was a fear he had regarding not being able to sleep with Ferro while they were at this new base.

Spunkmeyer hung his head. _I should be fine. Just do what Dietrich tells me, and I'll be good. _He glanced at Ferro. _And I'll have you for emotional support._

Ferro sat down on the nearest rock she saw. She was looking down, her face pale. She looked completely drained of energy, like she couldn't go on. "Spunkmeyer?"

"Yeah? Everything OK?" Spunkmeyer sat next to her.

She didn't respond right away. When Spunkmeyer put his arm around her, he could feel she was very warm, yet there wasn't a drop of sweat on her. "It's infected," she said, softly.

Spunkmeyer took a moment to process this. "W-What . . . is?"

"The gash on my arm."

"We got a first aid kit, don't we? Surely we got something that'll help." _Any infection out here, with no means of treatment, could be a death sentence. This is worse than my ankle!_

"I've tried. Don't know what else to do."

Spunkmeyer felt like panicking, even screaming. His earlier feelings of hopelessness were breaking down whatever defenses he had left in his head. He fell silent, struggling to compose himself. "I guess . . . we'll stay here until you feel like we can go on."

* * *

The hours seemed to drag by slower as they sat. Spunkmeyer decided to let his guard down, let every feeling of powerlessness come to the surface, and let Ferro see it.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger for you," Spunkmeyer said.

Ferro tried to smile, though her eyes were glassy with fever. "That's OK."

"No, it's not. I saw you breaking down, and I felt like I had to be the anchor here. Now we're just . . . I dunno."

"It's OK, Spunkmeyer. You're human."

Spunkmeyer was quiet for a moment. "You don't think I failed you?"

"No."

"As long as you think so." Spunkmeyer sighed, adjusting his right leg to sit more comfortably. "What're we gonna do, now?"

"I don't know. I'm . . . very tired and dizzy." Ferro rubbed her face.

"Well, if we can't move, I guess the only thing we can do is . . ." Spunkmeyer shrugged, "sit here and wait for rescue."

"We don't even know if someone's coming."

"I think our unit is. They wouldn't leave us behind. I just wish there was something I could do for you. I'm not a doctor."

"Staying here is fine."

Spunkmeyer sat closer to her, kissing her forehead. "I'll stay forever. I know that sounds really fucking cheesy, but, dammit, I'll stay forever."

He had some shred of hope that maybe her body was doing a good job of fighting whatever infection she had, and her fever would break soon, but nothing changed as time continued to pass. Night eventually fell, and Ferro slept while Spunkmeyer sat awake with his gun in hand.

Numerous times, he felt like nodding off. Numerous times, he forced himself awake, trying to tell himself that he couldn't afford to fall asleep. He had to a job to do. He never fell asleep in the powerloader or the dropship. Why should he fall asleep now?

Through the ambience of the rain forest, Spunkmeyer heard something that didn't sound like a bird or a tree frog or a monkey. It was a clicking sound, like someone cocking a weapon, a rifle, perhaps.

Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. Maybe he had been out here for too long, and it was starting to deteriorate his mental state. He wasn't sure what he was hearing. Maybe he heard nothing at all.

But what if he did hear something?

"Ferro. Ferro, wake up," he whispered, gently shaking her.

Ferro slowly opened her eyes. "What?" she moaned. She was still warm, and she moved stiffly.

"We need to go. Now."

"What's going on-"

"Just trust me." Spunkmeyer helped her up, putting her arm around his shoulders. As they got up, a loud _bang_ echoed through the forest, and an enormous hole had been blown into the rock they were just sitting on. Birds squawked and flapped from the trees around them. "_Move!_" Spunkmeyer yelled.

Ferro was forcing herself to jog, occasionally stumbling into trees and roots. Spunkmeyer glanced back once, then never looked back again as bullets began whizzing by their heads. He pushed Ferro forward, trying to move in a zig-zag pattern around the trees. His heart was in his throat when he heard the screeching of Annexers. _We're not getting away from them. Not if we're this weak._

"Ferro! Keep going!" Spunkmeyer shouted. He turned around, shooting at everything that moved. He watched Annexers fall from trees, heard people yelling orders. Pain shot up and down his right leg when he dashed off upon seeing the barrel of a machine gun appear in the bushes.

As he ran forward, Ferro was nowhere in sight. _Maybe she fell._

He heard a chattering sound, and turned to see an Annexer on a tree branch above him. Swiftly, he lifted his pistol, and heard a clicking sound. _Shit._ He fumbled around with a new magazine in his jacket pocket, and heard the animal screech. _Oh, this is it. I'm gonna get my guts torn out right here. _He braced himself.

Nothing happened. He heard someone walking in the bushes ahead of him, and he was certain it was an insurgent, coming to either shoot him or capture him.

Spunkmeyer's heart was beating against his ribcage, and he swallowed against a lump in his throat. Was the Annexer toying with him? Waiting for its master's orders?

"You bitch."

_Oh, now I'm really hearing things. That sounded like Drake._

Spunkmeyer would be stunned to see the smartgunner step out of the bushes, glaring up at the Annexer. The animal's tail lashed back and forth, but it didn't make a move toward Drake or Spunkmeyer.

"You heard me," Drake growled, angling his smartgun toward the Annexer's muzzle. "Go on, shoo."

The Annexer hissed at him before running off.

Drake looked down at Spunkmeyer. "Hey. Where've you been?"

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you," Spunkmeyer groaned, a hundred emotions crowding his chest.

Drake held out his hand to help Spunkmeyer stand. "Head where I just came from. The APC's waiting."

"Drake!" Wierzbowski called. "We've got 'em on the run!"

"I got Spunkmeyer!" Drake yelled back.

"Is he OK?"

"I don't know!"

Spunkmeyer limped into the bushes, seeing Frost standing by the APC. This wasn't a dream or hallucination. His unit came for him. Exhausted and relieved, Spunkmeyer collapsed, and Frost ran toward him. "Dietrich!"

"One minute!" Dietrich hollered from inside the APC.

Slinging his weapon over his shoulder, Frost scooped up Spunkmeyer. "Dietrich, we got Spunk back."

"Set him on the other stretcher." Dietrich was working over Ferro. "She needs a hospital, ASAP."

"Got it."

Spunkmeyer could hear smartguns firing outside, shouting, and screeching. Then there was the roar of aircraft overhead, and suddenly Apone barged into the APC, shouting for the other Marines to get inside. They piled in, and Dietrich immediately strapped Spunkmeyer down to the stretcher.

"Alright, drive, Frost!" Apone ordered. "Get us outta here!"

* * *

Dietrich gave Spunkmeyer an injection to help him sleep for the ride back to base. When he next awoke, he was being wheeled on a gurney into sick bay by Dietrich and Wierzbowski.

"I want X-rays and MRIs of that ankle," Dietrich was saying to another medtech. "I don't know how long it's been like that. We might have to operate on it."

Spunkmeyer glanced around. A part of him was still wondering if this was a dream. Was he still in the jungle? Where was Ferro? Was she still sick? "'Ski . . ." he moaned. "Where's Ferro?"

"She's being taken care of. Don't worry," Wierzbowski replied. He and Dietrich brought Spunkmeyer into a darkened room, where Dietrich flipped on the lights.

Dietrich put on a pair of gloves before looking at Spunkmeyer's right boot. She untied it, and began pulling, prompting a scream from Spunkmeyer. Taking a breath, Dietrich looked at Wierzbowski. "I need the big scissors."

"Got it." Wierzbowski disappeared from the room, and returned carrying a large pair of scissors. He handed them to Dietrich.

"Hold him steady while I cut the boot off."

Wierzbowski made sure Spunkmeyer couldn't see what was going on. He winced as Dietrich cut the boot open, and pulled it off slowly. "That's . . . not good."

"No, it's not. That'll have to be surgically repaired if the X-rays and MRI scan confirm what I'm afraid of."

Spunkmeyer swallowed nervously.

"Any other injuries on him, 'Ski?"

"Cuts and bruises. Nothing major."

"I want him on an antibiotic. God only knows what he could be carrying from the jungle."

"Dietrich?" Spunkmeyer said.

"What?"

"How's Ferro?"

"Stable."

"I wanna see her."

"You can see her later." Dietrich paused, looking away from Spunkmeyer. Wierzbowski whispered something in her ear, and then she turned back to Spunkmeyer. "I'm sorry."

Unsure of what to say, Spunkmeyer kept quiet while Dietrich prepped him for the X-ray. His mind wandered, continuing to debate with himself where he was, and whether this was just a dream. Numerous times, he felt like crying, because he just wasn't sure. It was a horrible feeling.

Much like when he'd been poisoned in Romania. Much like when the nightmares of him calling for his father came back shortly afterward.

Dietrich explained that Spunkmeyer would need corrective surgery on his ankle after analyzing his X-ray and MRI scans, and he would be off-duty for a month. "I don't think it's permanently damaged," Dietrich said, "but your ankle will be weak for some time after you get back on duty. You might find it giving out, it'll be sore, and . . . just be careful with it until you get the all-clear from me."

"Alright," Spunkmeyer sighed. "Just get it over with already."

"I already deal with this shit from Drake. I don't need it from you."

* * *

Spunkmeyer was put under for his operation not that long after, still not knowing what was actually going on with Ferro. He would awake a few hours later, propped up in a bed, mind blurry. The only thing he could feel at first was a dull ache in his right ankle. It slowly pulsated through his leg, but it wasn't enough to make him scream.

As his senses gradually returned, he could hear other people in the room with him. A lengthy moment later, he opened his eyes to see Hudson setting a get-well card on the bedside table.

"He's awake, man," Hudson said, glancing at Spunkmeyer. "How're you feeling, buddy?"

"Looks like how I was coming out of my operation a few months ago," Drake said.

"At this point, you were still sleeping, man."

"You certainly didn't look like a rose when you came out of surgery after that mission in Virginia."

Spunkmeyer tried to adjust himself without moving his right leg too much. He rubbed his head and neck. Everything in his body felt heavy. He tried to put his thoughts together, and even that was a slow process. Eventually, he said, "This is real, right?"

"Yeah. Why do you ask?" Drake replied.

"I'm not still wandering the jungle?"

Drake shook his head. "We rescued both you and Ferro, took you back here, and that was it, mostly. Ferro was taken out of the ICU a couple hours ago. I was just sitting with her when Hudson told me you were starting to wake up."

"So . . . she's OK?"

Drake nodded.

Spunkmeyer put his head back on the pillow. "Oh, thank God." He released his breath.

"And she does want to see you when you're allowed. She was worried when I told her you were in surgery."

"I would hope she was worried. That means she still loves me."

"What exactly happened out there, man?" Hudson asked. "You . . . didn't come back from that delivery."

"We were shot down. Only thing we could really do is walk."

"Did you know how far you were from base when you were shot down?" Drake asked.

"No. I don't even know how far we walked. I don't . . . even care anymore." Spunkmeyer covered his face. "I don't wanna think about it."

Drake gave him a sympathetic look, as did Hudson.

"We get it, man," Hudson said. "A lot more than you think we do."

"I know. I know." Spunkmeyer sighed. "Just . . . I . . . I-I'm afraid of going to sleep and waking up back in the wilderness."

"We can promise you won't, man, but we know how that feels."

"Whenever you do want to talk, we're open," Drake added.

"Well, I don't want to, right now."

"And that's OK. Talk about it whenever you feel ready." Drake shrugged.

"Do you want us to stay, man?" Hudson asked.

"I just want to see Ferro," Spunkmeyer said. "Is that too much to ask?"

"Depends on what Dietrich says, man. I can ask. Even though I know she doesn't like me, or Drake." Hudson left the room, Drake in tow.

Shortly after they left, Hicks walked in, closing the door behind him. He grabbed a chair to sit closer to Spunkmeyer. "How are you feeling?"

"Physically or mentally?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"Both."

"Physically, I'm tired, achy, especially my ankle. Mentally . . . also tired. I'm not going to answer any questions about what happened. At least . . . not right now."

Hicks nodded. "I didn't come to talk about that, OK? Nothing to worry about. Dietrich just outlined what's going to happen over the course of the next month or so. Your ankle has been set in a brace. They actually found some small fractures in it, and those were taken care of. You won't be able to move your right foot for about a month. After that, you'll do some physical therapy, and get you back on the powerloader. All I ask is that you take it easy and don't strain yourself. You're not in trouble. I also had Wierzbowski and Drake switch you to a bottom bunk to make things a little easier for you when you're let out of sick bay."

Spunkmeyer was quiet for a moment. "Am I allowed to see Ferro?"

"Not yet. Tomorrow. Both of you need rest, OK?"

* * *

When he was let out of sick bay an hour before lights-out, Spunkmeyer was still sore and tired, both physically and mentally. Hicks felt it would be better for his recovery to be around the others. After getting a shower, Spunkmeyer spent the next half-hour just sitting in his bunk while Drake, Hudson, and Wierzbowski played cards on the floor.

He was glad to be around them again, but he felt distant. He wasn't interacting with them. He was observing them, like he was in a dream.

Spunkmeyer carefully left his bunk, lowering himself to sit next to Wierzbowski.

"Should we start over or just give Spunkmeyer a hand?" Drake asked.

"We just started, man," Hudson replied. "Give him some cards."

Drake pulled some cards off the desk to give to Spunkmeyer. "Take your pillow and put it under your foot. It'll be more comfortable."

Spunkmeyer was quiet at first. He played along with the others, feeling unsure of what to say. When the game ended, he still felt somewhat distant, and alone. Everyone climbed in their bunks, and Spunkmeyer glanced up to see someone had remembered his Manhattan poster. It was taped to the underside of the bunk above him. "Did you do that, 'Ski?" he asked.

"Do what?" Wierzbowski replied.

"My poster."

"Drake did that."

Drake was already snoring in his bunk.

"You can thank him in the morning."

Spunkmeyer tried to get comfortable, fearful of the dreams he might have. He sighed, facing the wall.

He did manage to sleep for a few hours. At one point, he awoke to hear someone tossing, turning, and moaning from a nightmare. He glanced over his shoulder to see Drake twitching in his bunk.

Drake turned over to face the wall, gasping for breath. His breathing gradually returned to normal, and then he started shivering as he pulled his blanket tighter around his body.

In the morning, Spunkmeyer actually found it comforting to hear Hicks knocking on the doors to wake everyone up. He struggled to get out of his bunk, as his right leg was still asleep. Hudson tried to help, even though it made him last in line for breakfast.

It was nice to be eating with the rest of his unit again, but Ferro not being there created a dull ache in Spunkmeyer's heart. He took a swallow of orange juice before looking at Dietrich, and clearing his throat. "Um . . . Dietrich? Is it . . . OK if I see Ferro after breakfast?"

Dietrich thought for a moment. She glanced across the table at Wierzbowski, before looking at Spunkmeyer, not locking eyes with him. "Let me give her one last check, and then you can."

* * *

_Question: How might this incident bring Spunkmeyer closer to Drake and Hudson?_


	10. Chapter 10

Dietrich walked Spunkmeyer down to the recovery wing of sick bay, where Ferro was sitting up in bed with a breakfast tray and flipping through TV channels. She pressed the mute button as soon as she saw Spunkmeyer, setting her tray on the nightstand and opening her arms to hug him.

"Didn't I say you can't touch anyone?" Dietrich said.

Ferro lowered her arms. She waited until Dietrich left the room, and then gestured to Spunkmeyer.

Without hesitation, Spunkmeyer hugged her, almost laying on top of her on the bed, kissing her. She hugged him back, taking in his scent as they kissed.

Spunkmeyer rested his forehead on Ferro's when they paused to breathe. "I love you," he whispered. "I was worried."

"I was worried about you, too," Ferro said.

"We're home and we're both OK." Spunkmeyer kissed her again, nuzzling her face. He was happier than he had been in weeks. And he could feel it deep inside. He moved further on top of Ferro.

"Not here, sweetie," Ferro whispered.

Spunkmeyer got off. "OK. Sorry."

"No, I get it. Just . . . let's wait until I get cleared, and find a more secluded spot."

"Alright. Sounds fair." Spunkmeyer kissed Ferro's cheek.

He didn't want to talk about what they had been through the last week or so, even though he knew damn well it wasn't healthy. But he just didn't want to think about it anymore. Not even with Ferro.

* * *

Spunkmeyer lay awake that night staring upwards, blankly. At one point, he started tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable spot. The brace on his ankle certainly didn't help. He gave a heavy sigh, absentmindedly placing one hand over his belly and one hand above his head on his pillow.

He heard someone stirring in their bunk, and glanced over to see Hudson facing him. "You doing OK down there, man?" Hudson whispered.

Spunkmeyer returned his gaze to the underside of Wierzbowski's bunk, trying to think. "I don't know," he said, looking back at Hudson.

"You wanna talk?" Hudson folded his arms on his pillow.

"About what?"

"Whatever's bothering you right now."

Spunkmeyer hoped that the darkness would hide the tear rolling down his face.

Hudson waited for a moment, then spoke. "Spunkmeyer?"

"I don't want to."

Hudson's gaze softened. He sighed before returning to a comfortable position to sleep.

Spunkmeyer eventually fell asleep, but he found himself immediately sucked into a nightmare. He was running through the jungle again, running away from something or someone. He could hear screaming. He tripped, and tried to scramble up. Then a figure was standing over him, reaching down to grab his neck with a black gloved-hand.

Spunkmeyer jerked awake, still lying on his side. His eyes darted around the room, breathing hard. A few seconds later, Hicks knocked on the door, telling them to get up. Spunkmeyer released his breath, clutching his blanket tightly. His right leg was still asleep, and he cursed while trying to massage the blood back to it.

He was silent at breakfast, his thoughts roaming in every direction. He didn't like this feeling of being unsure. Worse yet was the feeling of not wanting to talk about what happened. The wound was too painful and raw right now.

He would feel more confident about it eventually. Not right now. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow.

Eventually, though.

Ferro was let out of sick bay that day. Neither of them were allowed to leave base for the next few days, as per Dietrich's orders, but they were fine with that. Spunkmeyer was OK with just finding a place to sit and do nothing, not even talking.

However, when Spunkmeyer went to go find Ferro, he spotted her sitting with Drake in the lounge. His arm was around her, and her head was on his shoulder. She was whispering to him. He was whispering back, occasionally kissing her forehead.

Spunkmeyer knew that it wasn't because they loved each other. He knew Ferro trusted Drake for advice and help. At the same time, he wished she went to him first. A heaviness crept into his chest, and he quietly left the lounge.

He went down to sick bay, knocking on Dr. Ranelli's door while looking around to make sure he was alone.

"Come in, come in," Ranelli said.

Spunkmeyer opened the door. "Hey, Doc."

"Spunkmeyer. Have a seat, young man." Ranelli gestured to a chair before turning on the portable heater for his kettle. "Tea or hot chocolate? Or maybe some coffee?"

"Any is fine." Spunkmeyer sat down. "I . . . w-well, you heard about . . . me and Ferro-"

"You were shot down in the jungle. I know. I'm not exactly isolated from the rest of the world."

"Alright. Well, I can't . . . I can't seem to talk about it with anyone. I . . . E-Every time I think about it, I suddenly feel as though . . . I'm still trapped out there, running for my life, and . . . suddenly I don't know where I am."

"Such disorientation is normal after a traumatic event, especially when that event was prolonged, like yours. You will readjust with time."

"I know that . . . not talking about what happened isn't good, but I can't . . . why am I afraid?"

"The same reason Drake was afraid of telling his story to others. The memories alone are painful and difficult to bear at times."

Spunkmeyer nodded. "So I'm not crazy."

Ranelli smiled. "No, not in the slightest. You are actually showing considerable mental strength just by coming here and expressing your difficulty to talk about the actual event."

"OK."

"Your first step is accepting that it is hard to talk about what happened when you were shot down, which I believe you've taken. Your next step is to actually discuss the event. I'm not saying you have to now. Give your mind time to process it, and then come back when you feel ready. Or, you can go to Drake or Hudson. They've been through trauma first-hand, and they can help you."

Spunkmeyer nodded again, a very small weight lifting off his shoulders. "Thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate it." A thought struck him. "Um . . . can I talk about one more thing?"

"You may."

"Alright. I . . . It's about my relationship with Ferro . . . Before I came here, I saw her with Drake in the lounge, and I was upset that she went to him before me, even though I know and accept that she trusts him with matters that she isn't ready to discuss with me yet."

"If you are being truthful in saying you accept it, then I think we can determine that this is due to your anxiety from the events of the last several days. Your mind still needs time to settle down."

"I always found operating the powerloader helped me with controlling my thoughts, because it was a slow job and gave me time to just think without jumping to a crazy decision." Spunkmeyer looked at his ankle. "I can't do it now, though."

"How long do you have to recover?"

"About a month. They had to surgically repair it. All I did was sprain it, but that was on the first day I was lost out there, and it . . . I guess it got worse. I know it got worse. It hurt like hell. Honestly, I was worried about it becoming a problem down the line, like it would never fully heal or something, and . . . I'd have to be removed from the Marines."

"I don't believe something like this would be grounds for dismissal. Not with your jobs, anyway. Not to mention, you're only about halfway through your contract, and that gives you plenty of time to find and train for a new position that would be less intense on your ankle."

"That would mean leaving these guys. And Ferro. I . . . I can't do that. I can't abandon them. They actually made me feel like I got a place, like . . . people love me. I can't afford to lose that. Besides, being alone made me realize how much they actually mean to me. I missed them."

Ranelli nodded. "That is completely understandable. As of now, I don't think you should worry. Let's see how things turn out at the end of your recovery."

* * *

Hudson found Spunkmeyer lying in his bunk later that evening. Sighing, Hudson sat in front of the bed, looking Spunkmeyer in the eye. "Hey, man. You know everyone else is in the lounge, right?"

"I know," Spunkmeyer replied. "Just . . . not feeling good. I took something for my leg and now I'm . . . don't know."

"Been there, man. My advice, next time you take any painkiller, take the lightest dose possible, but not so light that you still have pain in your leg." Hudson rested his arms on the side of the bunk. "We're all . . . kinda worried about you, man. You've been quiet and . . . we wanna help you, man."

Spunkmeyer glanced at the door. "Can you promise to keep it between us?"

"Cross my heart, man."

"Alright." Spunkmeyer adjusted his posture. "When we were shot down, I ejected, and I told Ferro to eject. I landed a good distance away from the wreck, hit my head, and woke up with a jostled memory. I couldn't remember if I had told Ferro to eject, and . . . I was terrified that I lost her and it was my fault. I wandered around, hoping to find the wreckage. It was while running from an Annexer that I sprained my ankle, and I was using sticks to hold myself up. I finally found Ferro, and we gathered up what was left in terms of supplies from the dropship wreckage. I was just happy to have her back.

"We felt the best option would be to walk. Walk south to Rio. We . . . had to stop a lot because of my ankle. Then there was a night we slept in a cave, and in the morning, we stayed because of the rain. We almost got cornered by a group of insurgents and their Annexers, and got in a shootout with them. Ferro was shaken up by it. I was . . . less shaken up. We moved on, though, and that . . . that kinda repeated over the next several days. We'd get chased, we'd fight back, and then we fell down a waterfall."

Hudson grimaced. "And you were OK?"

"Somewhat. I think that's what led to Ferro getting an infection. Her bandage was ruined in the fall, and I . . . probably didn't do a good job putting on a new one."

"That's not your fault, man. You did the best you could."

Spunkmeyer nodded a little. "There's really not much else to tell. We knew we were a very long way from home, and it was driving us both nuts. I tried to be the stronger person for Ferro, and I was cracking just as much as she was."

"Hey, it's good that you tried, but no one can withstand that kinda stress forever, man. That's all part of being human. I mean, we found you and you're both alive and safe. I think that says something. You didn't quit. Neither of you quit. Hell, I don't see it in you to quit, man. You enlisted underage and survived. You pulled yourself out of a bad situation at home. You had the courage to tell Ferro you loved her, and even though you're struggling a little because you're inexperienced, you're making things work, and you haven't once considered quitting. You should be real proud of yourself, man."

Spunkmeyer smiled weakly. "Thanks, Hudson."

Hudson gave him a big, goofy grin. "No problem. Come on out of bed, man, the others wanna see you again. We all missed you."

When they entered the lounge, Spunkmeyer noticed Ferro was sitting with Drake on the couch. Taking a breath, he sat next to Ferro. "Hi."

"Hi." Ferro looked at him, then put one arm around his neck. Her other arm went around Drake's. "Look at that. I have both of you now." She kissed Spunkmeyer's cheek, then nuzzled Drake's face.

Spunkmeyer grinned a little. "Is Dietrich gonna be pissed when she sees you doing this?"

"Dietrich would be pissed if you just glanced in her general direction," Drake said. "Besides, Wierzbowski seems to have some kind of handle on her."

"I think she likes Wierzbowski," Ferro whispered.

Drake snorted. "What?"

"Yeah."

"You're shitting with me. How can you tell?"

"She's . . . said some things. The night before Spunkmeyer and I left, the ladies were talking about the guys and I mentioned that Wierzbowski is handsome and Dietrich became flush and said she liked him because he 'has a good heart.'"

Drake whistled. "No fucking way. Dietrich has feelings?"

Ferro playfully shoved him. "You be nice to her. She does a lot for you."

"Well, she's never been nice to me. Plus, she's the only lady in this unit I haven't kissed."

Spunkmeyer laughed. "Drake kissing Dietrich. Oh, that's a laugh."

"Hey, if I'm going to hold the title of having kissed all the girls in my unit, I have to kiss Dietrich."

"Yeah, but Vasquez is the only one you'll kiss on the mouth," Ferro said.

"Exactly."

"And the only one he'll have sex with." Spunkmeyer looked at Ferro. "Speaking of which . . ."

Drake grinned. "Uh-oh. Is somebody horny?"

"Yeah, he is. He was almost on top of me yesterday morning," Ferro said.

"In that case-" Drake stood up, "follow me." He led them out of the lounge, and down the hall to the armory. Instead of going in the armory, he opened the door to the linen storage. "Do your business in here. It's secluded. I'll keep watch."

"'Keep watch?'" Spunkmeyer frowned.

"I'll be out in the hall, making sure nobody comes along to bother you. Besides, Vasquez and I had to listen to you two back on the D.C. base, so it's not like I'll hear anything I haven't heard. Or made myself." Drake winked. "Oh, one more thing, I'll go get you some protection, Spunkmeyer. Second thing, I'd recommend laying down a sheet. If you make a mess, clean up. If Hicks gets word that people are having happy-fun-time in here, he's going to be royally pissed."

"You have nothing to worry about, Drake," Spunkmeyer said. "We'll throw the sheet in the laundry as discreetly as we can."

After waiting for Drake to return with protection, he shut the door and left them alone, proceeding to pace the hallways and sit near the door, pretending he just needed to be alone and was having a mild panic attack.

Ferro watched Spunkmeyer lay out a bedsheet flat on the floor. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"Yeah. Do you . . . not want to?"

"No, I want to."

Ferro set up some more sheets, and some pillows so they could be more comfortable, before laying down. Spunkmeyer unbuckled his belt, draping it on a shelf before laying next to Ferro.

"What were you saying in the jungle about 'love nibbles?'" Ferro whispered.

"About how I'm gentle with you? I think that's all I said, to be honest." Spunkmeyer smiled, kissing Ferro's cheek. She smelled clean, and sweet. His nose was touching her soft skin as he alternated between drinking in her scent and kissing her.

Ferro caressed Spunkmeyer's cheeks. "And you're still prickly with stubble."

"Hey, I did trim it when we got back, but I didn't completely shave it off, because I know you like it, deep down."

Ferro put her arms around Spunkmeyer's neck. "You know what? I do like it."

"Told you."

* * *

Spunkmeyer felt like he'd be able to sleep soundly that night. It was strange to say, but it was true. He was happier, less stressed.

Drake was smiling at him when they entered their bedroom for lights-out, because he knew. "You feel better?" he asked, quietly. "I can see it in your face."

"I do feel a lot better," Spunkmeyer replied. "I think I can . . . I can get through this."

Hudson tossed his stuff inside his rack before climbing in. "Where were you, Spunkmeyer? You disappeared right after I brought you in the lounge, man."

Drake grinned up at Hudson. "I was helping him and Ferro with something."

It took Hudson a moment to put the pieces together. "Oh. Ohhh." He smirked, and looked at Spunkmeyer, winking. "'Something.'"

Spunkmeyer laughed. "Yeah, 'something.'"

"What're you all laughing about?" Wierzbowski asked when he walked into the room.

"Nothing, man," Hudson said. "Well, nothing you'd find funny."

"Dirty jokes, I suppose, then." Wierzbowski pulled a book from his rack before climbing up. He lay his bookmark on his chest as he adjusted his pillow.

Drake snorted, then curled up under his blanket. "Good night, guys."

"Good night, man." Hudson yawned, flopping on his pillow.

The lights turned off, aside from a single red light in the panel at the center of the ceiling. Wierzbowski gave a quiet sigh, happy to have some peace to read. Drake began snoring, and Hudson was adjusting himself before getting comfortable on his belly.

Spunkmeyer was glad to be talking with them again. It was like nothing had changed, even though he knew something inside him had changed. The trouble was that he didn't know what exactly had changed, if anything had changed. Maybe nothing had changed. Maybe it was just the shock of what he had gone through.

In the morning, Spunkmeyer was happier to finally be sitting with Ferro again at the breakfast table. He'd nudge her under the table, getting a smile from her as she poked his arm.

Before they could find something else to do for the day, Hicks gestured for Spunkmeyer and Ferro to follow him down to the base captain's office. For a moment, Spunkmeyer wondered if Hicks found out about what he and Ferro did last night, and they were going to be punished. He took a deep breath, as they walked down, where they were greeted by the stoic face of Captain Reynard.

Reynard was on the short side, but well-built and muscular for an officer. He gave off an air that made everyone instantly shut up and respect him. Spunkmeyer and Ferro didn't dare sit until he gestured for them to sit in front of his desk after saluting him and addressing him properly.

"Question, sir?" Spunkmeyer said, softly.

"I'll ask the questions, Private. You can ask when I'm done with you." Reynard sat, folding his hands on the desk. "Corporal Ferro, when you cleared the local coordinates for your next flight, you pressed clear 'global' instead. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir." Ferro looked down at her lap, turning red with embarrassment.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Corporal. You've done this procedure for every rotation flight for the last five years, and now you go and fuck things up." Reynard fell silent for a moment, scanning Ferro's eyes, then Spunkmeyer's. "You do know having the rescue coordinates would've shortened your time out there by several days, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright. I'd be more pissed if one of you had gotten killed, because this is something that could've been prevented." Reynard switched his gaze between Spunkmeyer and Ferro again. "This is nothing compared to what I'm giving to the fucking Manaus captain right now. They had enough supplies to last another three months, and Hicks told them what happened to your dropship. No, they insisted anyway. I get it; you wanna be properly stocked so when the inspector looks, he doesn't give you a write-up." He settled his gaze on Spunkmeyer. "Alright, what's your question, Private?"

"Are we . . . in trouble, sir?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"No, but I am pissed at you. However, I'm not punishing you. You're already on injury probations, so I'm not tacking anymore onto that. I just don't want to hear anything as stupid as going on a mission despite not having a fully equipped dropship, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Spunkmeyer and Ferro said at the same time.

They were dismissed, and they both breathed a sigh of relief when they were out of earshot from the captain's office. "For a minute there, I thought he was gonna break our necks and throw us in the brig," Spunkmeyer hissed.

"I thought so, too," Ferro whispered.

"Be honest, though . . . do you feel better now that you're not being punished?"

"I'm still technically in trouble. Everyone involved is."

"He let you off easy. I think he knows you're a good pilot and figured it was best to give you a stern warning."

Ferro nodded a little. "I know for damn sure I'm looking more carefully at the stupid computer next rotation."

"Good girl." Spunkmeyer flashed a grin. "If we weren't being watched by Dietrich, I'd take you out somewhere on the beach."

Ferro was quiet as they walked down to the lounge, then she turned to face Spunkmeyer. "You know, I noticed you're a little more talkative."

"Yeah. Is that bad?"

"No. I mean, I was telling Drake that I was worried about you because of how quiet you were when we got back, and now . . . suddenly you're back to normal, almost, what with last night, and today."

They sat on the couch, completely alone, as the rest of the unit was in the gym. Spunkmeyer took a moment to think, and then looked Ferro in the eye. "I talked to Ranelli about . . . how I was having a hard time telling people what happened, and then I ended up telling Hudson the summary of what happened, because I know it's bad to keep this all bottled up."

"Well, good. I . . . hope that'll help you get better, mentally."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the quietness. Spunkmeyer gently took Ferro's hand, squeezing it. Ferro squeezed his, then said, "You wanna know the one thing this experience taught me?"

"What?"

"That I can spend the rest of my life with you. If we can survive that, I see no reason why we can't start a life together when we get our discharges."

Spunkmeyer nodded. "Yeah. You're right." He massaged Ferro's hand with his thumb. "If I can survive that, I see no reason why I can't . . . meet your parents. Not now, but in the future."

"Eventually. I think they'll like you, especially when I tell them you protected me in the jungle."

"They're not gonna want to hear the Goddamn 'love nibbles' thing."

"Those are details we keep to ourselves. I wouldn't talk about that with anyone except you."

"Or Drake."

"Not even Drake. What's important is that you're good to me, and you stand by me, no matter what. I know you've had your difficulties, and you don't always think before you talk, but, dammit, Spunkmeyer, I love you." Ferro gripped his shoulders. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, too," Spunkmeyer replied. "Look, I would say 'I would trade the whole New York skyline for the shine in your eyes,' but I'm a New Yorker and I don't think I can say that." He laughed. "I guess a better way to say that is . . . one day, I wanna see the lights shining in your eyes at night. I think you'd make them ten times better than they already are."

Ferro smiled, before putting her arms around Spunkmeyer, holding him tightly.

"Oh, by the way?" Spunkmeyer whispered, rubbing Ferro's back.

"What?"

"I love you, too."

* * *

_Question: Do you think Spunkmeyer's feelings about how Drake and Ferro spend a lot of time together had an effect on him potentially telling Drake about his experience?_


End file.
